


On the Moonlit Floor

by catadamon



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Cute Cole (Dragon Age), F/M, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Inquisitor & Dorian Pavus Friendship, Inspired by a Movie, Slow Burn, Solas Disapproves, The Winter Palace (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2018-09-21 21:40:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 96,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9567941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catadamon/pseuds/catadamon
Summary: The Iron Bull is asked to help Lavellan become more confident in her role as Inquisitor. Solas disapproves. A wager is made.Also, Bull may or may not be falling for Lavellan? And that is probablynot good.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Otherwise known as the Pygmalion Dragon Age Inquisition fic that no one asked for, but I'm sure as heck going to deliver! 
> 
> This came about while I was on a FPJ movie kick in which I watched _She's All That_ for the first time. As I was watching it, my mind formed a scenario with Iron Bull taking the Inquisitor under his wing and it just evolved from there. 
> 
> So I started to write an interpretation of _She's All That_... in Thedas. I've taken inspiration from the movie, as well as its source material, _My Fair Lady_ (which is based on the play _Pygmalion_ ). However, this story has evolved into its own thing and no knowledge of any of its many iterations is required. It follows the plot points of the game pretty tightly-- starting from right before the Find The Warden quest, and ending at Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts. 
> 
> Props to [feelslikefire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/feelslikefire/pseuds/feelslikefire) for not only beta-ing this for me, but also for her never-ending patience for dealing with me prattle on about this insane idea. Love ya!
> 
> Direct quotes from both _She's All That_ and DAI are sprinkled throughout. Characters, of course, belong to BioWare. Thank you BioWare for stealing many hours of my life, but giving me so much joy in return.

1.

The sound of crows cawing echoed throughout the tower. Bull glanced up, trying to force back the shudder he felt tingling up his spine. Leliana had spared no time in making sure her little hideaway was unapproachable as humanly possible. He supposed it was to a spymaster's advantage to create a foreboding presence, but still— the endless crow calls were creepy.

It was Bull's first meeting with the spymaster in the Inquisition's new home. Only three weeks had passed since the destruction of Haven, yet looking at the receiving hall and the tower, one would never realize how much the rest of the castle was still in shambles. Top priority had been given to the receiving hall, followed by the Inquisitor's quarters, and the rookery— for obvious reasons. Everything else was on a "we'll get to it when we get to it" basis. Bull heard rumor that Commander Cullen's quarters had a hole in the roof. Bull's quarters weren't anything to write home about either, but a bed beat the shit out of sleeping on the ground, regardless on how much of a mess the room was, and Bull was sure Cullen shared the same sentiment. 

Bull slowly made his way up the spiral staircase leading to Leliana's domain. As he passed the library, he saw Dorian and the Inquisitor in their usual playful banter. The two had fast formed a friendship in their time-traveling adventures, it seemed. Bull still didn't trust the Vint as far as he could throw him. 

The Inquisitor pulled on Dorian's arm, dragging him toward the staircase. "Come on, Dorian! I'm going to be in meetings all afternoon!"

Dorian let out a put-upon sigh, but Bull could tell how much Dorian reveled in the attention. "You are perfectly capable of going outside on your own. I know you know how to open doors without a problem. I'm very busy here. Can't you see how busy I am?" he said, gesturing to the half empty wine glass and open book on the table behind them. 

"You _promised_ ," the Inquisitor whined, giving Dorian's arm another tug. It was the first time Bull had seen the boss so casual. Lavellan was quiet most times, and gave an unapproachable air on the best days. But Dorian had somehow broken through that all effortlessly. Perhaps time-traveling to a doomsday future together let them see the best of each other. She definitely had a bit of a crush on Dorian, and the two would flirt with each other endlessly. Bull wasn't going to be the one to tell her that she was barking up the wrong tree, but he could see that Dorian was not taking advantage of her infatuation either. 

At least, not yet. One never knew with Vints.

"How old are you again?" Dorian said with a dramatic eye-roll, but the smile on his lips said that he was enjoying every moment of the attention. "I'd swear you hadn't passed your twelfth birthday sometimes." 

It was then that the two of them noticed the massive Qunari standing at the top of the staircase. With a surprised "oh!" the Inquisitor let go of Dorian and stood up straight, her cheeks pinked. "Hello, Iron Bull," she managed, meeting his eye for only a moment before quickly looking away. 

Bull understood. She had seen a lot of shit in the future, some of which he knew she still had not shared. She had been very light on detail about how the red lyrium had affected them in the future, but he could make an educated guess by the way she still couldn't be around him or Varric for long periods of time. Or why she burst into tears every time she saw Leliana the first few days after they returned from Redcliffe. 

Lavellan was now staring at his shoulder instead of his eye. "Did you need something?" She bit her front teeth down on the right hand side of her lower lip, where there was an old scar. It was a telling nervous habit that Bull really should let her know about. However, it made his job much easier to know when she was nervous, so until she got over whatever issue was troubling her, he kept quiet on the subject. She may have also looked damn cute while doing it as well, but he'd never admit it out loud.

Giving her a reassuring smile, Bull shook his head. "Just going up to see Red, that's all. You're good, boss." 

"Ah," Dorian said, giving Bull a weighted look. "Come on Liadan, darling," he said, reaching for Lavellan's hand and leading her to the spiral stairs. "I'll go and utterly defeat you at some chess. Let the spies have their spy games." He glared at Bull as they passed him.

"You're not cheating this time!" Lavellan's voice carried up the stairs as they left the tower. 

"You say that as if it's something you _let_ me do. I'm far too clever for you." 

Bull shook his head before heading over to the final set of stairs to the rookery. 

The rookery itself was dimly lit, with candles placed only at the spymaster's desk and around a dedication to Andraste. There were multiple cages of crows hanging from the ceiling, their cawing now louder then ever with them so close. The rest of the rookery was stacked with supply boxes and reports, leaving only a small aisle to get to the spymaster's desk, and a path to walk to the small Andrastian sanctuary Leliana had built for herself. She was waiting at her desk with a polite smile. She looked positively in her element, watching over them all. "I was wondering when you would come see me, The Iron Bull," Leliana said, gesturing for him to join her. 

Bull smirked as he pulled out a chair. The wood scratched against the floor, echoing through the tower. Bull winced. How the spymaster kept secrets in such an echo chamber, he would never understand. Maybe she only accepted written reports? 

"It's always a pleasure," Bull said as he sat down. 

Things were settling in enough that he could write up his report about what had happened at Haven— like all of Thedas didn't already know what happened there. But the Ben-Hassrath wanted his opinion on the events, and Bull had quite a time deciding what to include in the report. Say too much about the Inquisitor's miraculous survival, and the Qunari troops would be descending upon them before they could blink. They were already uncomfortable with the idea that the Herald was an elven mage. Now she was an elven mage who had stood up to one of the original darkspawn— a darkspawn that was striving for godhood no less— and survived. An elven mage who had survived a mountain being dropped on her. An elven mage who now ran the Inquisition. 

He handed over the report to Leliana, and she read it, both of them utterly silent. Every once in awhile, she would pause on a word, forming the Qunlat with her mouth, recalling its meaning. Bull was impressed with how well the spymaster had taken to translating Qunlat on the fly. In his experience, it took viddathari several years of constant study before they were able to read Qunlat with as much ease as Leliana did. But he knew that her pronunciation was still crap, as she didn't say the words aloud when Bull was present. One day he would get her to say something in Qunlat. He couldn't help but be a bit curious what it sounded like. After all, she began her education about the Qunari through the current Arishok. 

As she finished the report, she looked over the letter to Bull, eyebrow raised. "I didn't realize you thought so highly of Lavellan. If you praised her any more, the Ben-Hassrath might think you've defected."

Bull shrugged. "Only being honest. The boss has had a lot of crap dumped on her, and she's come through it all shining."

Her eyebrow arched further upwards. "Yet you also say that she's lacking in leadership qualities?"

"She is," Bull said flatly. "She's always waiting for permission to act instead of acting as she sees fit. It probably comes from her being the First of her clan. Groomed to be in charge, but never given a chance."

"I agree."

It was Bull's turn to raise an eyebrow. "You do?" 

"Is it so surprising?" Leliana asked, handing the report back to him. "I've spent much time with leaders both effective and ineffective. Although, I will admit, Lavellan reminds me of Queen Cousland at the beginning of our travels during the Blight." The spymaster looked off to her left, lips pressed together in a frown. The unsaid ' _a little too much so_ ' showed on her face. "She was unsure of how to lead at first, despite being raised to do just that."

"She obviously got over it, though," Bull said. "Or none of us would probably be here."

A brief flash of a smile crossed Leliana's lips, probably the warmest expression that Bull had ever seen on the her face. Interesting on how guarded she was about everything else, save the Warden. "She did. We all supported her, encouraged her. The Inquisitor, well—" 

"The boss can be a little inaccessible to some," Bull supplied, understanding where the spymaster's line of thinking was going. Nobles, really— but Bull wasn't going to be the one to say it out loud. He couldn't blame her. Human nobles had been screwing over the elves since they came into being, and would probably continue to do so until the end of time.

Leliana nodded. "To say the least. The few nobles who have met her didn't leave with the best impression of our operation. Josie had to run circles around them to make sure they left happy." Raising an eyebrow, she nodded over to Bull. "The events of Redcliffe have only worsened things, as I'm sure you are aware. This is where I was hoping you could assist the Inquisition."

"You might have lost me," Bull said, blinking. "What is it you want me to do?"

"I want you to help the Inquisitor. You've already acknowledged she has the potential to be a good leader. Unlock it. Get her to have faith in her decisions. Help her become the Inquisitor we need her to be."

Bull crossed his arms against his chest. "You want me to give the Inquisitor... _confidence_? You realize that's not just some award you hand out?"

"Oh, of course," Leliana said, smiling. She pushed up from the table and began to pace by her desk. "But I was under the impression that you were Ben-Hassrath."

Bull laughed loud and hard. "I'm sorry, are you asking me to do the thing that everyone thinks the scary Ben-Hassrath is already doing?"

"But for _her_ benefit, not that of the Qun's," Leliana said, shrugging her shoulders. "Consider her situation. She's alone, snatched from everything she's ever known, and has had the position of Inquisitor thrust upon her, ready or not, with the literal fate of Thedas at stake. I am sure she would appreciate a shoulder to lean on, an ear to hear her thoughts."

"Dorian seems to have her ear," Bull offered. "As much as it worries me, she at least has a friend."

Leliana let out an exasperated sigh. "Dorian is a pariah even in Tevinter. He will not help her grow into a leader. More to the point, I do not think she is speaking to him about her problems. I'm starting to worry that she's internalizing everything, which will not help the situation. Devoted to the cause as he is, even Cullen has Cassandra to rely upon when things become too much for him. You could fill that position, and help her grow into the role of Inquisitor."

It wasn't that he didn't completely agree— he had had the same thoughts that first night at Skyhold, when he took the Inquisitor on a tour of her new castle. But what the spymaster was asking... "Why me?"

"Because you are the only one who fully understands the extent of my concerns. The ball at the Winter Palace is only twelve weeks away. She's going to be thrust into the thick of The Game, and right now I'm not sure she will survive it. Her air of mystery will only get her so far with Orlesian nobles, and being an elf will not help her in the slightest. Josephine and I will help as much as we can in practical training, but without being able to grab their interest, she'll never present to the nobility of Orlais as a proper power to be dealt with and—"

"The Inquisition will never succeed," Bull finished. 

"So you will assist in my request?" Leliana paused in her pacing and cast Bull a pointed look. 

Bull waved his hand impatiently. "Only because I know she can do this. I don't think it's as dire as you do, but yeah I'll help the boss any way I can. It's why I'm here, right?" 

"Excellent. I'm assuming you've already heard about the preliminary reports from our scouts in Crestwood?"

"Can't say I'm sorry I'll be missing it," Bull said, letting out a small laugh. "Demons, torrential rain, _and_ a runaway Warden? Sounds like a lot of fun."

"I will leave it in your capable hands then," she said with a nod, signaling he was to leave her coop now. 

Swearing under his breath, Bull shook his head. "Wait. Does that mean I'm going now?"

"Do you not want to make the best use of the remaining time before the Winter Palace?" Bull said nothing in return. She was right, as much as he _really_ didn't want to be there, it would be a good time to be able to talk to her without the constant distractions of Skyhold. "I will broach the subject with the Inquisitor in our meeting this afternoon. You'll be leaving at dawn with the traveling party. And Iron Bull—" A deadly smile crept onto Leliana's face. "I will be watching to make sure it is for _her_ benefit," Leliana said, her voice turning cold. "The first hint I have that you are helping the Qun and not us, consider your contract _ended_." 

Bull could see from the expression on Leliana's face that she meant that in more ways than stated. And while Bull was extremely confident in his skills, he was not about to test them against the Left Hand of the Divine. 

"Got it," he said with a nod before leaving Leliana's coup as quickly as he could without it looking like he was running for his life. 

Having finally felt the full force of her glare, he understood why Sister Nightingale was so feared.

 

2.

One of the only places Liadan found a moment of solace was in Skyhold's garden. Like most of the ancient castle, the garden was quite rundown when they arrived, with weeds running wild and the entire area suffering from massive overgrowth. Liadan made it her mission to work on recovering the garden every free minute she had— which wasn't much, but it helped her relax. It wasn't long before Dorian noticed her work in the garden, and researched spells for her to help encourage growth amongst the flowers that the Inquisitor planted.

Dorian also purchased an elaborate chess set from one of the merchants in Orlais. The pieces were weighted in the bottom, so even Skyhold's strong mountain winds would not knock them down. When they had time for a game, it was the highlight of Liadan's day

Everything was moving too fast for Liadan. They had spent months in the Hinterlands and the Storm Coast, simply trying to boost the power of the Inquisition— to help wherever it was needed. But ever since Redcliffe, everything had been a blur. She and Dorian had returned to their time, where they'd met the King, invited the mages into the Inquisition, and run off to seal the Breach in quick succession— only to immediately lose Haven to Corypheus. It left little chance to reflect on everything that had happened— everyone they had lost. All because of her choices. 

She had never gotten a chance to properly process what had happened in Redcliffe. There were times she could still hear the water dripping from Redcliffe castle. She could see the sickening red glow tinting everything in a deep gloom. See the lifeless bodies of Iron Bull and Varric, who had sacrificed themselves willingly for the chance, a hope, to make their future never happen. Leliana had died right in front of her, and she had been powerless to help her. 

Was this her life now? To watch those around her sacrifice themselves for her? For the Inquisition's cause?

The title of Inquisitor had been hers for only a few weeks, but it was already starting to weigh heavily on her. 

"Liadan?" Dorian waved his right hand in front of her face. "Are you still in there? Do I have to go fetch Cole to find where you've gone?" 

Liadan blinked, bringing herself out of her train of thought. "Oh, sorry," she said, blushing. "I guess I was distracted?"

Dorian scoffed, "Away from my boyish charms? Impossible!" He gestured down to the board. "It's your turn, darling. And I'm afraid you're in check."

Shaking her head, Liadan turned her attention back to the game. "And I'm sure you didn't move any of the pieces while I was miles away." Moving her mage forward, Liadan captured the pawn that had placed her in check. 

"For proclaiming that you weren't going to let me cheat this game, you're doing an awful job at it," Dorian admitted freely. With an eyebrow raised, he continued, "May I ask what has you so distracted? I mean, aside from my dazzling self." 

Liadan shook her head. "It's nothing," she said, watching as Dorian took his turn moving his queen. She was going to be in checkmate before she knew it at this rate. A brisk wind hit the castle, shaking the fall leaves on the trees and sending a chill up her spine. It would be winter before they knew it. 

Raising an eyebrow, Dorian gave the Inquisitor a skeptical look. "Might I point out that while we have not been together long, I have been through quite a lot with you, and I do in fact know when you are lying." Liadan rolled her eyes at him as she took her next move. "No it's true," Dorian said, grinning. "You get this sort of wrinkle on the side of your mouth." He reached across the table and poking the side of her mouth. 

"I didn't realize you were Ben-Hassrath," Liadan said, batting Dorian's hand away. 

Chuckling, Dorian shook his head. "I didn't need to be a Ben-Hassrath to figure it out. It's an obvious tell, my dear. Charming, of course, but obvious. Never play Wicked Grace. Although you bringing up the Ben-Hassrath gives me a slight clue to what's going on in that brain of yours." 

"I was thinking about Redcliffe," Liadan admitted, her eyes focused on the chessboard between them. 

"Ah." Dorian winced. "And this is how we know I'd make a terrible spy. That wasn't at all what I suspected. I regret pressing the matter now. My apologies for making you think of that dreadful place." He reached over the chessboard and patted her hand reassuringly.

Liadan cocked her head to the side. "Oh? What did _you_ think I was thinking about?"

Waving his hand, the mage shook his hand. "It's nothing. Forget that I said anything."

Smirking, Liadan leaned in towards Dorian. "Now you've intrigued me."

"I just..." Dorian let out an exasperated sigh. "I've seen how you act around the Iron Bull."

" _How I act?_ " Liadan repeated incredulously. "And how do I act, Dorian?" 

"You can't look him in the eye," Dorian said, a knowing look on his face. "And I just want to make sure you know what you are doing."

Shaking her head, Liadan said, "Dorian, _what are you talking about?_ I can't look him in the eye because every time I do, I see his corpse lying there. I hear the timbre of his voice corrupted by the red lyrium. It's still hard to not burst into tears when speaking to Leliana, and I have to see her every day."

"So you aren't interested at all in Iron Bull?" Dorian raised an eyebrow. "Because I'm rather sure I saw you blush when he passed by us before."

Liadan could feel her cheeks grow hot. She wanted to outright deny it, but her voice died as she opened her mouth to protest. After all, who wasn't at least a little interested? She had even caught Dorian giving Bull an appreciative glance or two while he was sparring with the Chargers. 

But there was nothing there between her and Bull. She couldn't even claim to consider him a friend. They were acquaintances at best. Sure, she felt her heart jolt when she saw Bull sitting in that cell, the red lyrium corruption clear on his face. But that wasn't interest. It was worry for her compatriot. 

"No," she said, clearing her throat. "I'm not. And I highly doubt he'd be interested in me anyway, so even if I was, it would be quite in vain."

"So you _have_ considered it," Dorian teased. "Dear me! Who would have thought our shy Inquisitor was interested in the boar? It's always the quiet ones. I wouldn't worry, darling. His list of conquests grows by the day, so I'm sure you'll come up eventually."

Liadan hid her face in her hands, sighing loudly. "Can we talk about anything else? _Please?_ "

"Of course!" Dorian moved one of his mages on the chessboard and looked up to the Inquisitor with a wide grin. "Checkmate."

 

3.

Despite having probably the strangest conversation with the spymaster, what followed as Bull walked down the spiral staircase and passed through Solas' mini-domain was probably even stranger.

It was no secret that Solas did not like Bull. He openly criticized the Qun at every opportunity presented to him when Bull was near. From the way Solas spoke, one would think that Bull was the second coming of Koslun himself. And no kind reassurances or playful banter would change the elf's mind. 

Not that it truly mattered to Bull, as a lot could be said about how much Bull Did. Not. Trust. Solas. He knew how to read people far too well to know when someone had ulterior motives. Solas had a secretive way of doing things that threw up alarms in Bull's head constantly. The elf was a master deflector when it came to questions about himself, answering seemingly everything and yet nothing. 

Bull always wondered why Leliana allowed the mage such a long leash, when Bull's was pulled tighter than anything— but Solas knew more about the Fade and rifts then any of them, so the Inquisition needed him around, at least for the time being. Solas' knowledge about the Fade and rifts only made him more suspect in Bull's mind, but it wasn't his Inquisition. 

He just had yet to figure out what Solas' intentions were— and until he did, he kept a close eye on the elf. And when the time came for Solas to betray them, which was inevitable, Bull would ensure the Inquisitor's safety— just as he was hired to do.

So when Solas was glaring at Bull as he walked through his workspace, for lack of a better word, Bull didn't think too much of it. It was Solas' natural state when Bull was around. But the loud disapproving huff of air he let out, well, that was different. 

Bull stopped a few feet from Solas' desk, where the elf was reading over some notes. "Something on your mind, Solas?"

"It won't work," Solas said shortly, his eyes never leaving his notes. 

"What won't?"

"The little game the Left Hand has you playing. It won't work. The Inquisitor is who she is. She is a child of the Dalish. It is all she knows. And no amount of _confidence_ will change that."

Bull held back a laugh. "You were eavesdropping on us?"

"It's hard not to hear every shuffle of paper that takes place in this tower," Solas said, glaring sharply as he looked at Bull. "So no, I was not."

"I'm just going to try and help her," Bull said, reassuringly. 

"Be realistic. I have nothing but faith in her and her judgment, but the Orlesian nobility will tear her apart. An elven mage from the Free Marches? She will be laughed out of the halls of Halamshiral before you can say ' _andaran atish'an_ ' and you and I both know it."

"That's not something I know," Bull said, shrugging. "And there's no harm in trying."

Solas scoffed. "And I suppose paying her meaningless compliments and boosting her ego is all to the benefit of the Inquisition? You do not fool me for a moment."

Just as Bull was about to retort, the sound of a door opening echoed through the tower. The two of them turned to see Varric entering the room, a curious look on his face. "What's all the fuss about? I can hear you all the way out in the hall, Chuckles."

Bull smiled, welcoming the dwarf to the conversation with a nod. "Solas here thinks that the Inquisitor is going to get laughed out of the Winter Palace. I'm suggesting that I can help her so she isn't."

Varric blinked twice. "Not what I expected, but okay," he said, shrugging. The dwarf rounded on Bull, eyeing him skeptically. "You _have_ met Snowflake, right? Tiny elf, strange white hair, won't talk to anyone she doesn't know unless forced? I know you spent time in Orlais, Tiny, but what makes you think you can achieve that?"

"I have my ways."

"Is she even talking to you?" Varric pressed.

" _I said_ , I have my ways."

"You would change her very nature to make her a pawn in this power game. And it will _not_ work," Solas said, his voice still tight with anger.

"Chuckles," Varric said, sighing as he rubbed his temple. "Anything that will help her in Orlais, is going to help us stop that terrible future she saw from happening, which I am all for. If Tiny here thinks he can help her achieve that goal, I say let him have at it. I think he has as good a shot as finding a decent meal in Orlais, but—"

"Maybe we should put money on it?" Bull suggested flippantly. He looked at Solas, a small smirk tugging on the side of his mouth. "Make things interesting?"

The elf did not disappoint. Solas slammed his book shut, finally looking up at Bull with a fierce glare. "You would make light of the Inquisition's future in such an improvident manner?"

"I think I should say no?" Bull looked over to Varric, who was chortling. "Yeah, I'm going to go with no on that one." He had to hold back laughter at the look of annoyance on Solas' face. "You have nothing to lose if I'm going to fail anyway, am I right?" Bull pointed out, holding back a large smile. "Not to mention, if I succeed—" 

"Which you won't," Solas interjected.

"—it benefits everyone. And if I don't, well, then you were right and you'll get to lord over everyone saying _I told you so_.'"

Solas sneered. "I do not _'lord over'_ people."

"You really do," Bull said with a smirk.

"You do, Chuckles," Varric added, nodding in agreement.

Glowering, Solas turned on the dwarf. "I cannot believe you would go along with this trickery, Child of the Stone. He is making games of the future of Thedas."

"You need to lighten up, Chuckles." Varric said, shaking his head. "Hawke and I used to make bets on much more inappropriate things."

Bull raised his eyebrow. "Does this mean you want in on it, Varric?"

"Oh no, I said nothing about joining in," Varric said, putting his hands up. "I'll be witness, but no way I'm getting involved in this pissing match personally."

"I'll even make the bet to your advantage, Solas," Bull offered. "I know you've been sending request after request to have a reconnaissance mission to the old temple we found the location of."

"You are speaking of Dirthamen's Temple? How—"

"Ben-Hassrath, remember?" Bull said, brushing it off. "As I was saying, the place is filled with demons, and has been deemed too dangerous to investigate. Am I warm?"

"Yes," Solas bit out. "Although I fail to see what this has to do with the matter at hand."

Bull opened his arms, walking towards the elf's desk and leaning onto it. The ancient wood groaned under the weight. He put forth his best charming smile. "Here's my proposal, Solas— if you're right, and despite my assistance, the boss is laughed out of Halamshiral, the Chargers and I will personally accompany you to the Temple. No strings attached. I won't even complain about the demons. I will be a pillar of silence."

Solas looked at him suspiciously. "And if you succeed? What ridiculous task will be asked of me?" 

"Hmmm..." Bull rubbed the bottom of his chin in consideration. "You have to go drinking with me and the Chargers."

Both Solas and Varric blinked. "That is all?" Solas said.

A wicked grin formed on Bull's face. "And you have to match me drink for drink."

Varric doubled over, laughing. "Really, Tiny?"

"I've never seen the elf drunk," Bull said with a shrug. "I think it would be fun."

Still laughing, Varric shook his head. "Of all things..."

"Just like he thinks running around in ancient temples full of demons would be fun," Bull explained, looking back over to Solas. "Might be the only way he gets to see the temple. But then again, might be the only way we ever get to see him drunk. It's a fair trade. And no one will be worse for either outcome. Well, aside from the demons. And maybe the nobles in the Winter Palace." Bull offered his right hand to the Solas. "Do we have an agreement?"

Solas considered the Bull's hand for a long moment. Then, glancing over to Varric, he said, "You bear witness to this wager, Varric? You have heard the terms." Varric nodded. Rolling his eyes, Solas took Bull's hand and gave it a hard shake. "We are agreed, then. Let us hope neither of us has need to regret our actions today."

"I'll remind you of that on your third round of Maraas-Lok," Bull said with a grin.

The two broke hands. Solas was still glaring daggers at Bull, only serving to make Bull's grin wider. 

Varric walked between the two of them, gesturing for them to seperate before another argument broke out. "Well then, Tiny. I believe I saw Snowflake and Sparkler head out to the garden." He pointed towards the door, a devious grin on his face. 

Bull cleared his throat. "You want me to talk to her _now_? This isn't something that's just going to happen like magic, Varric. It's going to take several weeks—"

"And if I'm not mistaken, the Winter Palace is what, twelve weeks away?" Varric countered. The grin on his face telling Bull that Varric was enjoying this far too much. "If you're going to help Snowflake charm the pants off the Orlesians, and it's going to take _several weeks_ , you'd better get started." 

Rolling his eye as he stomped past the other two, Bull made his way through the receiving hall and into the gardens. Behind him, he could hear the footsteps of both Solas and Varric (along with Varric's snickering). Clearly, they wanted to witness his skills, which was fine. Bull was confident enough in himself to talk to the boss in front of an audience. He straightened his posture, and rolled head from side to side. 

It would be fine.

It was a nice day outside, so many people were taking advantage and were outside enjoying the Fall colors of the garden, making it more populated than usual. Bull spotted the boss easily, still deeply involved in a chess game with Dorian. As he walked over to the table, Bull could feel several eyes watching him. 

"Hey boss," Bull said as he reached the table. "Do you have a second?" 

Lavellan froze, holding the mage piece in midair. Bull noted that she flinched when she heard his voice. 

"Oh don't put the mage there, boss," Bull said looking at the game. "He'll have you in Checkmate in three moves." 

Dorian rolled his eyes. "Yes, _thank you_ , Iron Bull. Go ahead and ruin the game by butting your enormous horns in. By all means!"

"Sorry," he said to Dorian, clearly not meaning it. Bull looked to Lavellan, who was looking away from him, her chess piece still hovering over the place she was going to put it. He leaned over her and guided her hand to another position. "Try here," he said quietly, his mouth only inches away from her ears, as he guided her hand to set the piece down.

"Thanks," Lavellan mumbled, still not looking at him whatsoever. Every muscle in her body was pulled taught, but she wasn't pulling away from him, either. It was a start. Now if he could only get her to look him in the eye. 

"You're welcome," he said, giving her a small smile. Bull pulled away from her, standing tall to her right. "So listen boss, I was wondering if you wanted to—"

And that was as far as he got before the Inquisitor stood up from the table and bolted across the garden into the receiving hall. She glanced over her shoulder right before she slammed the door shut— leaving Dorian and Bull alone with all of the occupants of the garden staring at what had just occurred.

"—Embarrass me horribly in front of all these people." Bull finshed quietly under his breath. 

From behind them, he could hear Varric laughing, and Solas' disapproval (okay so he couldn't really _hear_ disapproval, but if it was possible, Solas' would be loud and clear). Bull swore to himself. How was this supposed to work when she couldn't hold a conversation with him?

Dorian planted his elbow onto the chessboard. He looked up at Bull with an annoyed expression. "Wonderful," he said, sighing. "There goes my afternoon. Thank you very much, Bull." Dorian pushed up from the table with a warning look before following after the Inquisitor.

Bull shook his head as the door to the receiving hall slammed shut yet again. This was going to be much more difficult than he thought.

"Shit."

 

4.

After lunch, Liadan was swept away for her advanced magical lessons with Madame Vivienne. The enchantress and Commander Helaine had taken up most of Liadan’s tutelage after she had decided to become a Knight Enchanter. Despite her busy schedule, Liadan's advisors insisted that the Inquisitor had an open block of time every day after lunch for her magical studies while she was within Skyhold's walls.

It wasn't that the studies of the Knight Enchanter were boring, per say, but both Commander Helaine and Madame Vivienne had a bit of a condescending air to them when they spoke of the _wonders_ of being a Knight Enchanter. Liadan hoped that the haughty attitude didn't develop along with the abilities. Add that to the lethargy that often came after a heavy lunch, and well, it made her studies near impossible.

Since Liadan completed the first task of creating the hilt to summon her Spirit Blade, Helaine was in and out of Skyhold. Her skills were in high demand, thus she could not remain in Skyhold indefinitely. Vivienne had taken over the lessons, while Commander Helaine would come in to check her progress as time allowed. 

That afternoon it was a theoretical lesson on summoning the Spirit Blade, and Liadan's mind would not focus on the lecture. Vivenne's voice drolled as Liadan's attentions were pulled to the wind blowing against the open balcony. It was going to rain, Liadan could smell it in the air. She could hear the Iron Bull's voice barking orders to the Chargers outside as they ran through drills in the courtyard. 

Liadan regretted her actions in the garden. After all, it wasn't the Iron Bull's fault that Dorian had been taunting her about a certain Qunari's conquests just seconds before he came over. It wasn't the Iron Bull's fault that when he whispered in her ear, every alarm in her body went off, pulling her in several directions. 

The Iron Bull's physical presence being so close— she still couldn't process it. She naturally felt pulled to him, his voice was so warm and his manner so welcoming. 

But she knew she couldn't trust him. He was an admitted spy, and her guard had to be up at all times.

At the same time, her mind taunted her— recalling memories of Redcliffe. The musty smells of the dudgeons, the sight of his dead body lying there as demons overtook it. Running away from him was better than screaming at seeing all of it again in her head. It had taken Dorian a full twenty minutes, and quite a few glasses of wine, to get her to speak at all. She thanked the Creators that it was Dorian that followed her, and not the Iron Bull— she wasn't sure what would have happened if she saw the Iron Bull again while she was living that all over again. 

Dorian had been there in that dark timeline, understood what she was going through— at least to a point. After all, he didn't know the Iron Bull, Varric, or Leliana before that dark place— only _after_. 

Sighing, Liadan shook her head. She still needed to apologize to the Iron Bull. 

"My dear, I'm not going to stand here and waste my breath while you idle away looking out my balcony windows."

Liadan's head snapped up. Caught red handed. "Sorry, Vivienne," Liadan mumbled sheepishly. She brought her attention back to the book before her. 

The enchantress let out a measured breath. "The Spirit Blade is the heart of your abilities as a Knight Enchanter. You must have complete focus when pulling from the Fade to form its shape. How are you going to concentrate on the enemy in front of you in the thick of battle when you can't even concentrate on a quiet balcony? Instead of honing your abilities, you are thinking of some frivolous drama that won't be remembered a week from now."

Groaning, Liadan buried her head into her arms, making a soft _thunk_ as she collapsed into the tome before her. "Creators, even you know about it?"

"Well, _of course_ I do, darling," Vivienne retorted, putting her hands on her hips as she looked at the Inquisitor disapprovingly. "What happened in the garden is the talk of every noble and servant in this castle. However, it shouldn't and, more importantly, _doesn't_ matter. You are the _Inquisitor_. You cannot become maudlin over the simple gossip of those around you or you will get nowhere in Orlais— much less _all_ of Thedas. There will always be gossip. How they judge you is how you rise above it."

"So what should I do?" Liadan grumbled into her arms, still hiding her face. 

Vivienne slipped her fingers under Liadan's cheek and forced her to look up. "You must put it out of your mind and _focus_. There are more important things at hand, my dear."

"Cold, hopeless, the glow of corruption has overtaken everything," Cole's voice whispered over Liadan's shoulder. 

Liadan let out a breath. "Cole," she said quietly. A few weeks previous, she would have jumped out her skin at the spirit's sudden presence. But over the weeks she had acclimated to Cole appeared and disappearing at will. 

The boy appeared over her studies, squatting on Vivienne's ornate Orelesian desk. Liadan heard the enchantresses' audible gasp of dismay as she realized where he was. 

Cole didn't seem to care. "The song is not right, pitch hurting while tempting," he said softly. "Can't forget. Can't let this happen— _won't_ let this happen. It's gone, but you still see it. Can't let the worry go."

The enchantress made an impatient noise. "I thought I told you to not appear near me, abomination?"

Cole turned his wide pale eyes to Vivienne. "But she's _hurting_. I want to help her."

"Inquisitor, I must protest!" Vivienne said, looking over Cole and only at the Inquisitor. "This is my private sanctuary, and I do not wish to defile it with demons." The look the enchantress gave Cole was that of pure ice.

Turning to Cole, Liadan smiled sympathetically. "Cole." Putting her feelings forefront in her mind, she willed that Cole would understand her unease. 

Cole blinked at the Inquisitor. "You want to apologize to him?" Glancing out the window to the Chargers, the boy tilted his head and listened for a moment. "But he has already forgiven you," he added, turning his head back to face Liadan.

" _Inquisitor_ ," Vivienne pressed, her impatience with the spirit squatting on her desk clearly showing. 

The boy nodded, hunching over himself. "Y-yes, I can do that."

Liadan mouthed the words ' _Thank you_ ' as Cole vanished from the desk. Liadan collapsed her head back into the tome with a sigh. 

"My dear," Vivienne's voice loomed behind her. "What did I say about wasting my breath?" All the exasperation of Cole being in her presence wiped from Vivienne's demeanor. Her voice was stern, but in the loving way that she always directed at Liadan. It reminded her of her Keeper when she was a little girl. Liadan fought back the urge to smile, because she knew Vivienne would pick up on it. 

Sometimes Cole's talents were a very handy thing to have. 

Not missing a beat, Liadan raised her head back up and straightened her shoulders. "My apologies, Mistress Vivienne," she said solemnly. "My mind must of wandered again."

"You seem regretful enough, I suppose." A small smile pulled at the sides of Vivienne's mouth as she tucked her hand under the Inquisitor's chin. She turned Liadan's face towards her. "Perhaps we need a more practical approach to this lesson, hmm? Why don't we try to summon the Spirit Blade? Before it starts to rain out there."

Liadan blinked, "We're going outside?"

"Of course, darling," Vivienne said with a smirk. "I'm not about to have you summon it in here." Vivienne's expression turned serious as she narrowed her eyes at the Inquisitor. "Besides, it will make a great demonstration to your followers. Those who see the Inquisitor summon a blade from nothing will be talking about it for quite sometime. And the frivolous drama will be forgotten."

"Oh!" Liadan smiled at her tutor. "Thank you."

Her voice sharp as a blade, Vivienne said, "Don't thank me yet, my dear."

 

5.

Bull needed to hit something after the disaster in the garden. Not because he was frustrated at what happened, but to help him figure out his next move. Sparring allowed him concentrate on something else for a little while— it was endlessly helpful when trying to make a plan of action, especially when things were a bit tricky. Bull had formed some of the most complicated strategies in the midst of swinging his axe.

"Come on, Krem!" Bull bellowed as he waved the shield on his arm. "I've been working my ass off trying to get you to see this move."

Pushing himself off the ground, Krem spat on the ground. "From over here I'd say you still have plenty of ass left, Chief!" the lieutenant taunted, readying his stance again. 

Bull charged, letting out a loud roar. The two wooden shields collided with a loud _thump_ , sending Krem back to the ground, this time landing squarely on his ass. " _Venhedis!_ " Krem swore, rolling over to his side as he gently rubbed his behind. 

"Go get some water," Bull said, letting out a sigh as he lowered his shield. 

"Right," Krem groaned as he slowly got up from the ground, grumbling to himself. "Wish you would find something besides beating the shit out of us when you need to have a think."

"Oh don't be such a crybaby," Bull called back to Krem's retreating figure. "I only pick on you because I like you." Chuckling, Bull put the shield down next to Krem's before walking over to the wall behind him. The sunny day from earlier had given way to overcast clouds. His ankle throbbed, letting him know that it would be raining before long. 

Bull watched the other Chargers' sparring matches. Skinner was getting more adept at checking her left flank, and Rocky needed to start watching his. Sure, Rocky was more demolitions then a fighter, but that didn't mean he shouldn't be prepared. The tasks that the Inquisition were giving the Chargers were getting exponentially more dangerous as things went on. First it was just to seal the breach in the sky and stop a few mages and templars from tearing the countryside apart. Now it was preventing assassinations, demon armies, and oh yeah going up against one of the _original darkspawn_. They needed to be prepared for anything.

Beside them, Grim and Dalish were in a heated skirmish with staffs— with none of Dalish's ancient elven "tricks." It was under Bull's insistence that Dalish start to learn how to defend herself in any kind of fight, just in case anything ever happened to her "bow" out in the field. She took the challenge with a scoff, but had become quite adept with the staff as time went on. She even incorporated some of the moves she learned into the field using her bow, making Dalish even more lethal out in the field. 

Leaning his head back, careful not to scratch his horns against the stone behind him, Bull observed the two fights while he ran over in his mind what had happened out in the garden. 

He knew that the boss still had issues when it came to him, but her running away from him like that never occurred to him as a possibility. The boss was quiet and a bit unapproachable at times, yes, but, not skittish. Before Redcliffe, she could talk to him in Haven or out on the field without so much as a flinch. 

Clearly, that was no longer the case. 

Lavellan had yet to take him as part of her field party since she came back from that bleak future. Instead, he had been sent on recovery assignments with the Chargers, or tasked with projects to help rebuild Skyhold. In fact, now that he thought about it, he really hadn't spoken much to Lavellan since the fall of Haven.

When Leliana gave him the task, his Ben-Hassrath instincts first directed him to seduce her and build her confidence that way, as it would be the most efficient. Support some decisions, tell her what she wants, lavish her with compliments, give her some pointers on how to impress nobles, and _viola_! Instant belle of the ball at the Winter Palace. But her reaction in the garden, made it quite clear _that_ was out of the question, until at least she had recovered from what had happened in Redcliffe— whenever that was going to be. But there wasn't time to wait for that to happen. The proverbial axe was hovering over them. 

Krem made his way back over to Bull, carrying two large wooden cups of water. He offered one to Bull, who gladly took it and started to drink deeply from it. "Should I assume the meeting with Sister Nightingale didn't go well?" Krem asked, joining Bull in leaning on the wall. 

Letting out a loud appreciative sigh, he gave Krem back the now empty goblet. "What makes you say that?" Bull asked, glancing down at his lieutenant. 

"You mean besides you making us run ten laps around the courtyard and then beating me into a pulp?" Krem snorted. "You're not fooling anyone, Chief. I know how you work. What happened?"

"Nothing," Bull said with a shrug. "Red gave me a project, that's all."

Krem raised an eyebrow. "A project?"

"Red wants me to help the boss prepare for the Winter Palace in a few weeks."

Krem burst out laughing. "Sorry, sorry," he said, doubled over. "I must have... misheard..." 

"Why does everyone think it's funny?" Bull said, raising his arms dramatically. "It's not like I've spent the last few years in Orlais or anything. I know how to deal with Orlesian nobles."

"You know how to not kill them when they are pissing you off," Krem corrected. "I wouldn't call that 'dealing' with the nobles."

"Orlesian nobles love me," Bull shot back. "If you recall, we were exceedingly well funded when we were in Val Royeaux. And why was that? Because of my charming self."

"And your humility, clearly. Does this project have something to with Her Worship running away from you in the garden earlier?" Krem asked with a wry smirk. "It's already all over Skyhold, Chief."

"Of course it is."

Krem snickered. "I don't think I've ever heard of a woman running away from you like that. Your reputation maybe irrevocably damaged."

Bull rolled his eye. "Yeah, I'm really worried about that right now, Krem."

"And how does Her Worship feel about this project?"

Letting out a long breath, Bull turned his head away. "To tell you the truth, she kind of uh— doesn't know. I tried to talk to her about it, but—" 

"Ah," Krem said, nodding his head knowingly. He watched as Dalish overtook Grim, her bow held high after she knocked Grim's feet from under him. "Perhaps try it from a different approach?" 

"I'm all ears, Krem. Seriously, she can't even look at me in the eye right now."

" _You're_ the Ben-Hassrath, remember?" Krem said, sounding exasperated. "I know it's hard for you to get that bull head to absorb this, but maybe your smug direct approach isn't the best choice here." The lieutenant hesitated for a moment. "She talks about you— or _did_ , rather, in Haven. She used to ask me a lot of questions about you. About if you were a good man. About trust."

Chuckling, Bull turned to his lieutenant. "Of course she did. She'd accepted an admitted Ben-Hassrath into her circle."

"I don't think that's why," Krem said, shaking his head. There was a knowing look in his eyes. "When was the last time you talked to her? An actual conversation, not just updates in the field or a greeting in passing."

Bull opened his mouth to answer. But then closed it again. How long _had_ it been? Had he ever really had a _real_ conversation with her since coming to Haven? 

"Her Worship is a private person, even moreso now that she's been made Inquisitor. If you approach her like you do everyone else, you're going to put her guard up." Frowning, Krem let out a loud sigh. "You've always been able to get a read on people with that training of yours. I don't understand... it's like you've developed a blind spot when it comes to her."

"Ouch, Krem." Bull winced, itching the cheek below his eyepatch. "I thought we were done sparring."

"Ha freaking _ha_ , Chief," the lieutenant mocked, rolling his eyes. "Fine, don't take my advice," he added flippantly. "After all, she'll eventually stop running away from you, right?"

Pressing his hand against his face, Bull let out a grumble. "That's all for today, Chargers!" he hollered, as he pushed away from the wall. "Get cleaned up and meet me in the tavern in an hour. First round is on me!" 

The other Chargers gave a cheer as they picked up their practice gear. 

Bull could feel Krem's eyes on his back. "Something else you want to say, Krem?"

There was a long moment of silence between them before Krem let out a quiet, "No." The lieutenant walked past Bull, and hollered to the others, "Right, you heard the Chief! Let's move, Chargers!"

Bull watched as the Chargers began to pack up their sparring gear, rolling Krem's words around his mind. Pain shot through his ankle again. Bull bent over and loosened his brace before giving it a deep massage to loosen the stiff muscles.

"She wants to apologize," Cole said gently, appearing on Bull's right side. 

" _Gaaah!_ " Bull felt his heart jump. He still wasn't used to the kid, not really. He had stopped jumping every time Cole did his disappearing act, but it was a close thing. Planting both of his hands firmly on the ground, Bull let out a very long sigh. "I'm not taking an apology from a demon-spirit- _thing_ who can read minds." Glaring at Cole, he added, "And you shouldn't be telling me her thoughts so openly. Thoughts are private. It could get the both of us in trouble."

"She asked me to speak with you," Cole said sheepishly, hiding his face under the large brim of his hat. 

With a grunt, Bull frowned at Cole. "Well I'm not using you as a go-between, if that's what you're waiting for. She can come out here and we can talk. You don't need to be involved in this, kid."

The spirit boy hummed. "She wants to use her own voice to tell you, not mine. But she's unsure. Scared of what will happen. Darkness, seeped in red. A future that can't happen."

Making a disapproving sound, Bull pushed himself to standing. Because of course she was scared of what will happen. This was part of the issue that Leliana was referring to. The Inquisitor worried too much about the outcome, of what people would think. Good leaders would take that into consideration, but didn't dwell on it like Lavellan would. After all, who was he to be such a concern of the Inquisitor? He was a hired blade, who would follow where he was told to go, regardless of what he thought. 

Why did Lavellan put so much stock in how he felt? 

"I think her eyes are pretty too," Cole said quietly, fidgeting with his gloves. 

"Private thoughts, kid," Bull warned. 

Tucking the sparing gear under his arm, Krem paused just as he was about to walk into the Herald's Rest. He looked at Bull with an eyebrow raised. "Chief?" he said, the concern clear in his voice.

Covering his face with his hand, Bull let out a sigh. "Let me guess— no one else can see you?"

"You said thoughts were private," Cole said, sounding a little confused.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who has left kudos and kind comments about this silly idea. <3 Another massive thank you to [feelslikefire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/feelslikefire/pseuds/feelslikefire) for being an awesome beta!
> 
> Enjoy as the fluff slowly engulfs Bull and Liadan!
> 
> Direct quotes from both _She's All That_ and _DAI_ are sprinkled throughout. Characters, of course, belong to BioWare. Thank you BioWare for stealing many hours of my life, but giving me so much joy in return.

1.

Liadan followed close behind Vivienne as they made their way to the courtyard. On the tower spiral staircase, they passed Dorian going back to the library that he had claimed as his own. "Madam Vivienne and I are going to practice summoning the Spirit Blade outside."

His eyes lit up. "Oh? Care to have a tag along? I do believe I could use some fresh air."

For Liadan, it was a bit of a relief. Vivienne could be rather harsh when it came to teaching. Dorian was more lighthearted— aiming to get Liadan to relax as opposed to being stressed out when she wasn't getting a technique right away. He understood her perfectionism implicitly— she suspected he was the same way. When something went awry, and sometimes literally blew up in their faces, he would have a joke ready, bringing a smile to her face instead of letting her dwell on the failure. 

On the other hand, Vivienne had little patience when Liadan did not grasp a concept right away. However, Liadan knew that the real reason for Vivienne's frustration was that she thought Liadan more capable, and needed a challenge. Whereas Dorian wasn't one to push. 

Between the two of them, Liadan had the perfect compliment of tutors. 

Although, Liadan had _yet_ to see Vivienne and Dorian have a single agreeable conversation together, save for the subject of making fun of Solas' ' _shabby_ ' clothes, they had some silent agreement to not fight when it involved Liadan's training. Not that it stopped the two from competing on who could help the Inquisitor grow her magical talents more. Nor did it stop them from throwing out the odd passive aggressive insult at each other here and there.

"Oh what lovely weather you picked to practice in," Dorian said drolly as they walked outside. He flicked a large droplet of water that landed on his shoulder. "It's going to start pouring any minute now." He gave a over-dramatic shudder, shooting Liadan a pleading look.

Vivienne was already halfway down the entrance steps. She turned to give Liadan and Dorian a steely glare. "I might be mistaken, Dorian darling, but I do believe you are a _mage_ , yes? I would hope at some point you would have learned a trick or two to help yourself stay dry during inclement weather?" Vivienne smiled at him, her eyes showing outright contempt. "Or are you _less capable_ then I thought?"

Gritting his teeth, Dorian turned to Liadan. "I do this for _you_ , you realize. I put up with the ice queen for _your_ benefit."

Liadan held back a laugh as she nudged him playfully with her shoulder. "And it's much appreciated," she said.

"Enough dallying!" Vivienne had reached the grass field of the courtyard and turned to them, clapping her hands briskly. "Let us begin!"

Dorian rolled his eyes and let out a dramatic sigh for added effect. "I expect a very fine vintage of red wine as a souvenir the next time you go to Orlais, or I can't guarantee I'll hold my tongue the next time the _Madame_ looks like an overdressed peacock on display."

"I'll do my best," Liadan said.

Dorian smirked at her. But after spending so much time with him, Liadan could tell that there was something more to the look he was giving her. He nodded to the practice area. "Looks like we may have an audience for our lesson today."

Liadan followed Dorian's line of sight to see the Chargers wrapping up their practice, with Iron Bull watching over everything. His massive frame leaned casually against the stone wall as if it had always belonged there. Liadan froze, letting out a surprised gasp. 

Chortling, Dorian wrapped his arm around Liadan's waist and pulled her forward. "Come on, _darling_. Madame Vivienne mustn't be kept waiting."

"But—" She broke off, nervously bitting the scar in the corner of her mouth. "I can't—"

"Can and _will_ , Herald." He continued to walk down the entrance stairs, taking Liadan each step of the way. "Who knows, you might even get your chance to apologize to the boar before the day is out. Wouldn't that be nice?"

A feeling of sheer panic overtook her. Was the ground crumbling underneath them? Because the stone in the stairs never did look quite stable and it would explain the feeling wracking through her body at that moment. Beside her, Dorian was looking as smug as ever, and not terrified that they were falling to their doom, so no. It was all in her mind. 

Liadan shook her head fervently. "No, not here. There's too many people—"

"Tsk, tsk," Dorian chided her affectionately. There was a look of pure amusement on his face. "You can face down Corypheus and his dragon, but can't even say you're sorry in front of a crowd?"

"There wasn't an entire castle watching me face him down," Liadan argued. "If that had been the case—"

"—You still would have done admirably." 

" _Dorian._ "

" _Liadan._ "

"Inquisitor!" Vivienne called down from the courtyard. She was now standing by the Iron Bull, clearly just having exchanged greetings with him. That was a dynamic Liadan never expected to understand. When the two were first introduced, Liadan was sure Iron Bull would intimidate the court enchanter, but it was just the opposite. Although, it was understandable, as Vivienne's perfect posture and alluring charms, albeit calculated, demanded attention. But knowing what Liadan did about Qunari and how they treated their mages, she expected more... hostility between the two of them. Instead, Iron Bull heeded Vivienne's every word, followed every order the enchantress gave— whether they were actually worded like an order or not. "We don't have all day, my dear!" she called in a sing-song tone.

It was as if her feet had become leadened as she slowly walked down the stairs. The Iron Bull was now looking up at her as well, a strange expression on his face. Liadan cursed under her breath. Had Cole _already_ spoken to him? There wasn't enough time to pull her thoughts together. Thankfully, Vivienne's insistence about practicing would keep her occupied for a little while. Perhaps Iron Bull would go away, join his men. Hopefully. Looking at Iron Bull, she willed for the Qunari to leave, but he instead seemed to settle further back against the stone wall. Liadan inwardly cursed as she and Dorian reached the practice area. 

"Now, Liadan, my dear," Vivienne said as she gestured over to the other side of the open area. "You stand over there. Dorian and I shall attack, whilst you are to close the distance between us to strike. Remember to concentrate your magic on shaping the blade. The more focus you have, the stronger it will be. Is that clear?"

"Although don't _actually_ hit _me_ with it," Dorian added, smirking as he wrapped his arm around Liadan's shoulder. "Strike her all you want but don't hurt your devastatingly handsome best friend, yes?"

Vivienne rolled her eyes. "Helpful as always, Dorian darling." With a flick of her wrist, the enchantress summoned a barrier to protect the three of them as Liadan took her designated place. Vivienne stepped into a defensive stance. "Step back Dorian— we need to give her plenty of room."

"Um..." Liadan nodded her head in Iron Bull's direction. "Is it safe for—"

"Don't worry about me, boss," Iron Bull called from his place on the wall. "Just enjoying the show."

"But—" Liadan frowned.

Vivienne readied her staff, moving into an attack pose. "Ready when you are, my dear."

Liadan nodded her head shallowly, giving one last nervous glance to Iron Bull. 

The rain started to fall in earnest and the dirt beneath them was slowly becoming a slippery, muddy mess. 

Dorian was the first to move, summoning a field of lightning around them. Liadan could feel the hair on her arms standing up straight as she weaved herself around the spell, closing the space between them. She saved her mana, intending to manipulate her magicks into a stronger attack with the Spirit Blade when the time came. Below her, the ground began to glow Vivienne's unmistakable blue as she cast several ice glyphs. Liadan nicked one of them with her foot, activating the glyph to shoot out daggers of ice. Thankfully, her foot barely touched it, so she only felt a slight chill run up her leg as she pressed forward to Dorian.

Not to be out maneuvered by Vivienne, Dorian jumped through the Fade, putting him a safe distance away from Liadan's incoming attack. Left with no choice, Liadan turned her attention to Vivienne, knowing the enchantress might try the same, and they would be at this all day. Taking a deep breath, Liadan focused everything on the hilt in her hands as she ran forward. The blade blazed to life for a moment, but flickered out before it could hit Vivienne. Liadan felt her whole body sway as the blade didn't reappear. Vivienne took advantage of the situation, and thrust her staff out at Liadan's feet, knocking her to the ground. Then she sent a burst of magic to ensure it would be an end to Liadan's attack.

Liadan let out a loud "Oof!" as she landed on her side, the blade hilt falling out of her hands. The force of the magic sent her tumbling on the ground a few feet, only to be stopped by one of the trees on the outer perimeter of the courtyard. The tree shook as her lower back slammed against it.

"Liadan!" Dorian shouted, running towards her. 

She stayed down, face pushed into the ground. Her back and ankle were screaming at her from the fall, and her clothes were caked in mud, but she didn't care. 

After all of that work... she still couldn't summon the blade. 

Liadan didn't want to stand up. She didn't want to see the disapproving look on Vivienne's face, or the worried frown that was surly pulling on Dorian's mouth. And she really didn't want to see Iron Bull watching as she struggled to get up. Cole appeared by her side, pushing away a particular branch that was digging into her side. "He wants to know you're okay," he said quietly, offering his hand to her. "But he's not sure you want him to ask."

Liadan let out a snort. "Cole, unless you can blink me into some other place than this, I'm not sure I want your help right now."

The spirit boy blinked his wide eyes at her as Dorian reached the two of them. 

"Are you all right?" Dorian asked, his breaths coming a little heavily. When Liadan weakly nodded, but made no move to stand, Dorian whilred around to face Vivienne. Hands on his hips, he called out, "Oh _excellent idea_ , trying to break the Inquisitor's back, Madame Vivienne! Your mastery of teaching leaves me completely speechless as always."

"It's not my fault she was not better prepared for such an obvious counter," Vivienne drolled, sounding unapologetic. 

Dorian knelt next to Liadan, careful of the mud. "Liadan, dear heart, please tell me nothing is broken. You know I'm not the best healer, and that harpy will probably make you practice through it before she'd properly heal you."

"I'm fine," Liadan breathed, keeping her back to Dorian. "Only relearning how to breathe."

"Oh is that all?" he said with a weak chuckle. With a gentle touch, Dorian turned Liadan's body to face him, checking for himself whether things looked as serious as they seemed when she fell. "You have Andraste's luck, that's for sure."

"From what I've learned since becoming Herald, I'm not sure I'd consider Andraste a lucky woman."

"She's embarrassed," Cole said quietly, still holding his hand out for her.

Rolling his eyes at the spirit's obvious statement, Dorian turned his attention back to Liadan. "Naturally. She just performed a stunning tumbling act for us all to see. We should take it on the road! Come on," he said quietly, in a reassuring voice. "The longer you lay there, the worse it'll be, Liadan. Before long, Cassandra will swoop in, fretting to all of us about the health of the Inquisitor. Best to stand up." He offered his hand as well. 

Face burning, Liadan grabbed both hands offered to her and slowly pulled herself standing. Pain shot through her lower back as she straightened her posture. Putting her right hand on the spot where it hurt the most, she cast a small healing spell. Dorian raised an eyebrow at her, surely sensing the pull of magic, but he said nothing. 

Cole looked towards where Vivienne and Iron Bull were now huddled together in a heated conversation. "She's alright!" he called. "But her ankle is—" he blinked at Liadan. "What does _fenedhis_ mean?"

Dorian stifled a laugh behind his hand. "It means she would very much appreciate it if you stayed out of her head for a little while."

Vivienne narrowed her eyes at Cole. Clearly this was the first time he allowed the enchantress to see him. Considering her reaction in her office earlier in the day, Liadan couldn't really blame his hesitation. "Why is _that_ here?"

Crossing his arms against his chest, Dorian glared at the enchantress. "Showing a bit of concern for a friend, if Madame Vivienne will allow it," he said with a huff. Liadan knew that Dorian wasn't the biggest fan of the spirit, but clearly he wasn't pleased with Vivienne's attitude about him either. 

Iron Bull said something quietly to Vivienne that Liadan couldn't quite make out. He headed back to the wall to observe once more. Vivienne glared at his retreating figure. "And that doesn't give you the slightest bit of unease?"

"I _can_ help," Cole said, turning his big bright blue eyes towards Liadan. "She's small like me. I can show her how to—" 

" _Out_ of the question," Vivienne said, turning her glare on Cole. "I'm trying to help the Inquisitor focus on on an exceptionally difficult maneuver to create a blade of solid magic. Having a demon here will only serve as to distract her from her task."

Releasing Liadan's hand, Dorian slowly walked towards the enchantress, a smug grin on his face. "Oh? I think it's a fine idea. One would argue that it would be better to have him here. That way the Herald can learn to fight with spirits present in the heat of battle."

The two exchanged glares for a few moments before Liadan loudly cleared her throat. "I think Cole should stay."

Incredulous, Vivienne gestured at Cole. "That _thing_ only serves as a danger to you, my dear—" 

"Solas says—"

Vivienne held up a hand for silence. "Stop before you even begin, my dear. I do not want to hear about the theories of the poor elven apostate. Of course he finds nothing wrong with Cole! The thing _reeks_ of the Fade."

"Not to ruin the entertainment but—" The Iron Bull chimed in from his wall. "Cole has a point, ma'am. The boss needs to become lighter on her feet in her approach."

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Vivienne let out a loud sigh. " _Fine_. I suppose with all of us here, the danger won't be too great, but I still think it's a mistake to have the Inquisitor too close to the demon." Shaking her head, she walked towards Liadan and Dorian, still looking at Cole with utter distaste. "Shall we try again, my dear? This time, you need to focus more on the shape of the blade. Until you can actually summon the blade for more than a flicker, you will be defenseless in battle." Pushing the hilt of Liadan's fallen blade back into her hand, Vivienne glared at Dorian, "Now if we could all agree to take our places to try again?"

"Yes, before we drown," Dorian said, waving his right hand in the air as he cast a barrier on all four of them. He patted Liadan on the shoulder, giving her a wink as Vivienne took her fighting stance. "If I strike her with a lightning bolt, you'll be my witness to say that it was a complete accident, yes?"

Liadan chortled, shaking her head. "You'd be on your own, Dorian."

"We could blame it on the weather, none would be the wiser," he shrugged before taking his position as well. 

Cole stood by Liadan's side, his daggers ready. "Nervous, heart racing—"

" _Cole_ ," Liadan bit, readying the hilt in her hand. 

Shrinking his shoulders slightly, Cole glanced at Liadan with a remorseful look. "Oh, sorry," he said sheepishly. Adjusting the hat on his head, he nodded towards where Dorian was standing. "Follow me as best as you can, as light as you can. Like petals in a breeze. Keep moving, hands always ready." 

And so she did. Keeping a few steps behind Cole as he approached Dorian, trying to blink past the rain flying into her eyes and ignoring the pain in her ankle. It was not the direct approach she would have taken, but a winding path, dodging the small magical attacks as best as she could. While she got hit with the brunt of some of them, Cole managed to side-step every single one. Liadan had never realized how quickly Cole could move in the heat of battle. He was like water in a brook— flowing around anything blocking it's path. It was fascinating to watch, despite her lack of talent to match him move for move. Before she knew it, they were close to Dorian's flank. Cole took the opportunity to vanish from her sight, with a quick, "Now!" 

Liadan focused everything she had into the hilt in her hands as she took a step out of Dorian's peripheral vision. The blade sprang to life, a golden glow enveloping everything around her. Sliding her leg forward as Vivienne had shown her, Liadan could feel her step wobble sightly, as did the blade in her hand flicker. Sensing the immense amount of magic, Dorian turned quickly, and shot a small glacier of ice at Liadan. Trying to move out of the way, her unsteady legs tangled around themselves. She felt her foothold give way, but she managed to avoid the ice attack and stay standing— which was a massive improvement from her previous try. The blade vanished before she could strike.

Letting out a loud sigh of frustration, Vivienne held her hand up for them all to stop. "What did I tell you about your footing, my dear?"

From the wall, Iron Bull cleared his throat. Vivienne's head whipped towards him, her icy glare just daring him to say something else. He must have not noticed, or not cared, because he spoke again, "Shifting into that stance is what keeps throwing her off."

"Which is precisely why we are _practicing_ , Iron Bull," Vivienne shot back. "So she can effectively transition into that stance to land her strike strong and true."

"I beg to differ. That stance is all wrong for for her."

Vivienne's glare deepened. Liadan was sure there was going to be ice shooting directly from the enchantress' eyes at any moment. "I beg your pardon? The stance is perfectly fine. I have used it to end many a demon's life."

"Yeah, but you're a head taller than the boss, and wear heels that could kill a man. Plus your fighting style is completely different and you pack a harder hit with your thrust like that," Bull reasoned. "The boss usually doesn't wear shoes, and when she does they have no heel to them. Her center of gravity is much lower. Forcing her into a stance that's unnatural for her fighting style is going to have her focus too much on her feet and not enough on the attack— which is exactly what's happening."

Vivienne raised an eyebrow at Iron Bull. Liadan felt a shiver go down her spine watching the icy look the enchanter was giving him. If Liadan had been on the receiving end of that look, she would have melted through the ground, but Iron Bull just stared back, shifting his weight on his feet as he pressed his right shoulder against the stone wall. "And what would you suggest, Iron Bull?" 

"Well," Iron Bull said, pushing off the wall with a heave. He walked the short distance over to them, his eye never leaving Liadan. She could feel her body sway, the urge to take a step back gnawing at her. She looked down to the hilt in her hands. Wiping the moisture from hands against the cloth on her chest, Liadan continued to avert her eyes from Iron Bull as he came to her side. "Try standing like this, boss," he said quietly as he ghosted his hand over her arms, waiting for permission to touch her. When Liadan didn't flinch away, he pressed one of his hands against her back, shifting her posture lower, while his other hand guided her right leg into a wider stance. Already she felt more comfortable and steady. "How's that?" he asked quietly. "Feel natural for you?"

Liadan glanced up, her eyes meeting Iron Bull's, as she nodded. She ignored how hot her skin felt where he had touched, despite the rain pouring around them. After two attempts at trying to speak, she finally managed to say quietly, "It's better."

Iron Bull opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by Cole's voice, "Red flows through the dampness, seeping through heart and skin. A voice in the dark, jangled out of tune. Not his, _not his_. The future that will never be. Must get back, must stop this, must hear his real voice again."

Liadan felt her face heat up as Iron Bull let out a quiet sigh. 

Iron Bull pulled away from her, and looked at Cole with his eye narrowed. "Remember what I said about private thoughts, Cole?"

"That they could get us both into trouble... oh." Cole hid his face under his large brimmed hat. He risked a glance over to Liadan, who was doing her best to not bury her face in her hands and run away to the stables. Master Dennet would let her hide there for a while, wouldn't he? 

Shaking his head, Iron Bull took a step away from Liadan, allowing her to recover and gather herself. Eyes closed, she took a few deep breaths before looking at Bull again. Not able to bring herself to look him in the eye, she settled looking at his right shoulder. 

"Why don't you try it again, boss? This time, without following Cole."

Readying his daggers, Cole looked hesitantly at Iron Bull. "She's going to hit me hard, isn't she?"

The Iron Bull let out a loud laugh.

 

\---

 

In the end, it took Liadan three more tries before she could successfully summon the Spirit Blade and keep it's shape for more than a blink— and even then it was only for enough time to land one strike before it disappeared.

However, the afternoon War Table meeting overruled any engagements, lessons or no. So when Josephine's skirts swept onto the entrance threshold, her writing board ready in hand and an expectant look on her face, that signaled the end of the lesson. 

Not wanting to stay in the rain a moment longer, Dorian let out a string of curses in Tevine as he stomped through the mud towards the tavern. Before opening the door to the Herald's Rest, he turned back to the group with a flourish and announced, "I'll be busy getting warm and drunk for the next few hours, if anyone is interested. Any contributions of fine wine would be _much_ appreciated." 

Iron Bull rolled his eye as Liadan let out a laugh from where they were standing. She made a mental note to break out a really nice vintage for Dorian. He'd earned it several times over again for sticking with her throughout the damp practice despite Vivienne's presence. 

As if summoned by thought, the enchantress appeared beside Liadan and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "My dear, you did quite admirably today, despite your bumpy beginning," she said, almost looking pleased. 

From all the barbed critique Vivienne had directed at her, she couldn't be certain that it was completely genuine. It was impossible to tell when it came to Vivienne. 

"We'll continue when you return from Crestwood. Get yourself dry and warm before you go into that drafty War Room." Vivienne started to glide up the stairs to the entrance without another backwards glance.

"Don't know about you, but I'd have to agree with Dorian's idea about getting drunk. We could sneak one in before you go. Josephine'll never know," Iron Bull smirked, giving a playful wink to Liadan. She found herself returning the smirk before she could stop herself. His expression turned into an all out toothy grin. "Boring meetings are always more fun with alcohol, right boss?" 

Vivienne glanced over her shoulder and shook her head disapprovingly. "Stop trying to corrupt her, Iron Bull," the enchantress warned as she disappeared into the entrance of Skyhold.

"Yes ma'am," Iron Bull called, the smirk wiped from his face. "Sorry, ma'am!" He nodded towards the stairs leading to the Skyhold's main hall. "Go on, this rain is shitty, and you need to get to your meeting before you get washed away." 

As he started to walk toward the tavern, Liadan reached out and hesitantly pulled on his right arm. "Wait," she said quietly. Iron Bull froze mid-step, and turned to face her. 

When his eye met hers, Liadan instantly looked at her feet. Her free hand clenched tightly by her side. Now that she had his attention, the apology was caught in her throat. She couldn't say it, not with him so close, looking at her with such warmth in his expression. She stood there, shivering, completely soaked with rain, sweat, and mud.

Heartbeat pounding in her ears, Liadan closed her eyes and shook her head. "Um, I just... wanted to say thank you... for helping today."

She felt Iron Bull's large hand muss her hair. Opening her eyes, Liadan saw him smiling down at her. "Anytime, boss." He gave her head a final pat before going his way to the tavern. 

Josephine, still standing at the threshold, called out, "Inquisitor?"

Liadan let out a sigh and then followed Josephine into the main hall.

The ambassador got Liadan dried and changed in record time. The only remanence of their practicing outside was the chill to her skin, particularly her nose, which seemed as if it had been covered in ice. She did take a few odd hits from Vivienne, so it was possible. Although Liadan hoped Josephine would have said something if there was ice hanging from her nostrils.

Her head already full from Vivienne's lectures, the sparring, and whatever had happened between her and Iron Bull after, Liadan was overwhelmed by the meeting. Leliana's scout reports and Josephine's updates on the latest potential allies, and whatever baggage they were bringing with them in supporting the Inquisition, blurred together into a mush of words. 

That was until Leliana's voice broke through. "Liadan?" she said warmly. The spymaster rarely called her by name, which is what caught her attention.

"Yes?" Liadan said, blinking. 

Leliana let out a quiet sigh, but gave her a knowing smile. Liadan must have been out of it for longer than she thought. "The roster for your trip to Crestwood tomorrow?" she offered, clearly repeating what she had said. "Iron Bull has volunteered to go in Cassandra's stead."

Blinking again, Liadan shook her head. "I'm sorry, I must have heard you incorrectly. Iron Bull wants to go to Crestwood with us? Didn't you say the village was having demon attacks? Does he know this?"

"Of course," Leliana asserted, a bright smile on her face. It was a smile that Liadan was starting to suspect. "He stressed to me in our meeting earlier that while he was glad he could be of service helping with the rebuilding of Skyhold, he wants to resume his position as your personal bodyguard and ensure your safety while you search for Hawke's Warden. After all, we have had multiple reports of Red Templar strongholds in the area."

Except for the fact that was the last thing Liadan wanted. To be out in the field with him for three weeks (or more) would be beyond awkward. Liadan insisted, "But Cass—" 

Josephine cleared her throat. "Considering the circumstances, in that you will be traveling with Messere Hawke and Varric, Leliana and I thought it best that Seeker Cassandra stay behind."

Raising an eyebrow at Josephine, Liadan asked, " _Circumstances_?"

"What she means is that Cassandra and I intended to recruit Hawke to be the Inquisitor before the Conclave," Leliana said with a small sigh. "During her interrogation with Varric, however, he claimed he had no clue as to Hawke's whereabouts."

Pressing her lips together in a disappointed frown, the ambassador glared at Leliana. "It worked out to our benefit, as we have a fine Inquisitor. However, the Seeker might make things complicated. And the less complications we have right now, the better," Josephine said firmly, offering a reassuring smile to Liadan. "I know the Iron Bull will provide excellent back-up should anything go awry."

Cullen snorted. "That Qunari is a ten man army unto himself. He proved that during the attack on Haven. If anyone can keep you protected from the Red Templars, it's him, Inquisitor."

"Yes but," Liadan interjected, wracking her brain for a good argument against the Iron Bull coming. "I planned to take Cole with me to Crestwood. Iron Bull couldn't possibly—"

"He seemed keen to spend more time with the latest member of your Inner Circle," Leliana said, giving Liadan a suspicious look.

"But surely—"

"Do you have something against the Iron Bull accompanying you, Inquisitor?"

Pressing her lips together hard, Liadan shook her head. "No..." she said quietly.

"Then the matter is settled."

"It's imperative that you return as soon as possible from Crestwood, Inquisitor," Josephine said, clearly wanting to move the meeting forward. "Lord desRosier will be here at the end of the month and we shall be throwing a small welcoming party for him." 

"Define small," Liadan said, a feeling of dread overtaking her. The amount of gatherings Josephine had managed to arrange in the few weeks they had been in Skyhold, despite the fact it was still under heavy construction, might have been impressive, if Liadan didn't have to suffer through all of them. 

"A hundred guests at most," Josephine said as she checked the next item off her list. "I've already arranged the refreshments and entertainment. I took the liberty and invited that string enable you were so fond of, Inquisitor. There's no doubt it will be a lovely evening."

" _Josie._ " Leliana sighed, shaking her head. 

"Should I invite more?" Josephine shot a defiant look at Leliana. When the spymaster said nothing, Josephine turned her attention back to Liadan. "We've had correspondence from our spy contacts in Orlais. Lady Richelieu is vying for the role of potential matchmaker for Lord desRosier. I would not put it past her to make an appearance as well. She'll want to make a few introductions while at Skyhold, including one with yourself."

"What? Another one?" Cullen scoffed. The Commander's hand fell to the hilt of his sword automatically, much to Liadan's amusement. Cullen's contempt of the suitors interested in the Inquisitor rivaled her own. Dorian insisted it was because the Commander had a crush on her, but Liadan had yet to be on the receiving side of any such affection. Cullen was just protective, and really she couldn't ask for more when it seemed Josephine exceedingly interested in continuing to throw suitors at her. "Lavellan has been in the position of Inquisitor for less than a month and—"

"This was to be expected," Josephine replied, her voice the same calm demeanor that she used on visiting dignitaries. "Marriage alliances are currency, especially in Orlais. The Inquisitor is in a powerful position now. She's going to continue to receive marriage proposals until she accepts one."

"Which won't be for a _very_ long time," Liadan countered, her shoulders tensing at the very thought of it.

Smirking, Leliana tilted her head to the side. "Which is why you should be glad that your ambassador is quite adept at avoiding certain unwanted entanglements. She has been avoiding her own engagement for several years now. Haven't you, Josie?" 

"Leliana!" Josephine paled sightly, but was careful to not lose face. 

"It's alright," Liadan said, also smiling at the ambassador. "We're in the War Room. Nothing leaves here. Your secret is safe with us, Ambassador."

The ambassador pressed her lips together for a moment, before nodding her head to the side. "My personal matters aside, I do have plans in motion to circumvent any marriage offers Lord desRosier may have for you, Inquisitor, not to worry. However, he is nonetheless an important ally that the Inquisition needs if we are to succeed at the Winter Palace. Which is why we will be celebrating his visit. You must return with enough time for us to properly prepare."

Liadan nodded. "Understood. We'll be back in time." 

"I still think it's ridiculous," Cullen added with a huff, crossing his arms against his chest. "Defeating Corypheus should be the most pressing matter, and yet the nobles are still bickering about power positions. Not to mention, I still do not trust Lord desRosier. He was a very vocal voice against the Herald before the fall of Haven, and only now is he showing any interest in helping."

Liadan put her hand on Cullen's shoulder, and gave it a reassuring pat. "Not to worry, Commander. In my experience, once they realize that I'm a knife-eared maleficar, most nobles lose interest in my hand rather quickly."

Cullen bristled. "Has someone—" he sputtered, clearly trying to keep his temper controlled in front of everyone. Liadan couldn't help but smile. "The _gall_ —" he finally managed, "To say that to your face—"

"Not yet."

It was a lie, but he needn't know. The Commander was too naive when it came to how elves were treated in Thedas, but she was touched by his anger for her sake. 

It was actually quite interesting all the names she had been called by visiting nobles. Until the ambassador was kind enough to point out that she, Liadan, was in fact the Inquisitor. The moment the conniving smiles turned to looks of absolute shock, Liadan had to admit, was far more satisfying then it should have been. 

"But when it happens, you'll be the first to know, Commander," Liadan added, exchanging a knowing look with Josephine. "Now if there is nothing else to discuss, as much as I love spending time with you three, I need a hot drink and to get in front of a fire." 

Josephine nodded. "Of course. I think we've covered everything pressing. Shall we call the meeting to a conclusion then?" The other two advisors nodded in agreement before heading towards the door. "I do hope you have safe travels on your way to Crestwood, Inquisitor. Make sure you get an adequate rest this evening."

"After that workout, I plan to," Liadan hummed as she and Josephine left the War Room. 

Cullen waited for the two of them in the hallway leading to Josephine's office. "I saw you practicing with Madame Vivienne earlier, Inquisitor," Cullen said as he joined them. "Your Spirit Blade seems to be coming along nicely. You'll have to show me your progress when you return from Crestwood."

"I'm not sure it'll be up to your battle standards yet, Commander," Liadan said. "You'll have to give me a little more practice time before I can hold my own against you." Josephine gave Liadan a knowing look as the ambassador continued on her way back to her office. 

"I promise to go easy on you," Cullen said with a chuckle.

Looking skeptically at the Commander, Liadan smirked. "Somehow I doubt that. I've seen you going 'easy' on new recruits."

Cullen shook his head, grinning at her. "That may be true. Still, I'm quite sure you could protect yourself from anything I threw at you."

"That sounds like a challenge, Commander."

 

2.

The rain continued to pour into the night. Not that it mattered in the Herald's Rest, where it was warm, welcoming, and buzzing with life. The Chargers, as usual, were tucked in their corner, singing loudly along with Maryden's tunes as she filled the tavern with the sweet sounds of her lute. At some point Dorian and Sera had joined in the Chargers' merriment, singing just as loud as obnoxiously as any of them.

Bull sat away from it all, in the chair behind their normal table, observing everything on the tavern floor as he slowly nursed one of the terrible Ferelden ales the Inquisitor had brought back on her last trip to Denerim. 

When Maryden took her break, Krem walked over to Bull, an expectant look on his face. "Are you going to sit here and sulk all night?" he asked, kicking the wooden leg of the chair. 

"I'm _thinking_ , Krem," Bull grunted.

"From here it looks like _sulking_ , Chief."

Bull scoffed. "The Iron Bull does not _sulk_. Not that the same could be said about you. You sulked the entire time we were doing clean-up in Haven that you were missing out on your girl playing. If I were you, I'd stop wasting my time teasing my betters, and go make your move."

Krem made an impatient noise before moving back to the Charger's table with over-dramatic flourish.

Chuckling to himself, Bull took note that Krem still did not go speak to Maryden. Instead, the lieutenant returned to his seat, slipping back into the conversation with the Chargers. But when he thought no one was looking, he snuck a wistful glance at the bard. The poor guy was never going to get anywhere like that. Bull taught his lieutenant better, so he wasn't sure where Krem's newly developed shyness was coming from. 

Bull's ankle throbbed in pain, an unwelcome foreshadowing that the rain would continue through the night. Loosening the brace on his ankle, Bull rubbed the sore spot gently. He made a mental note to ask Stitches to whip up something before the end of the night to dull the ache. Taking a deep breath, Bull pushed the pain away by focusing on the next steps to take when it came to the Inquisitor. 

Somehow, he had to get her to open up to him about what happened at Redcliffe. If he at least had an idea of what she went through there, he could approach the problem and try to fix it. But until then, he was stumbling in the dark, and probably making the situation between them worse. But seeing as the Inquisitor was still having difficulty talking to him, maybe it was time to take a different approach. 

For his part, Dorian didn't laugh in his face— which was what Bull entirely expected. While the Vint had stopped vocalizing his outright disdain, Bull was under no illusion that he wanted to be friendly. Instead, Dorian made a perplexed face before downing his remaining half glass of wine. "You already know what happened. Everyone knows what happened."

"I know the generalities, sure," Bull said with a shrug. "Or least the ones that were reported. But you were _there_."

"So were you, but just in another time line," Dorian said, still looking disinterested. He waved over a passing barmaid, giving her a dazzlingly charming grin. 

Bull shifted his stance, blocking the barmaid's view and narrowed his eye. He hadn't planned to threaten to get the information he needed, but if Dorian was going to continue to be an ass— Bull knew how to use his bulk to his advantage. "Something happened between that me and the boss," Bull said. "I know that, because when you two came back, suddenly the boss stopped looking me in the eye. But you have no problem with looking at with me with open contempt so it can't have been completely terrible. I need to know what it was."

" _Why_?" There was an accusing tone in Dorian's voice. 

Raising an eyebrow, Bull crossed his arms against his chest.

"Sorry, but your barbaric threats have no effect on me. Buy me a drink and we'll see what happens, hmm?" Snorting, Dorian moved so he could be seen by the barmaid again. He waved her over once more.

Bull rolled his eye. "Fine," he grumbled just as the barmaid arrived to take Dorian's order. "Whatever he's having, double it, Claire."

Claire giggled as she took away Dorian's empty wineglass. "Right away, Honey Bull," she said, winking. As she stood up straight, she gave a smirk to Bull before heading towards the bar— purposely swinging her hips with each step. Bull grinned as he watched her walk away. After all, it would be a shame to not enjoy such a lovely show when presented.

From behind him, Dorian scoffed loudly. Bull glanced over his shoulder to see a disapproving look on his face. "Do you know all the serving girls by name?"

Chuckling, Bull said, "Only the redheads."

Dorian let out another disapproving scoff. "And you want me to help you woo my best friend?"

"Sorry, _what_?" Bull said, blinking at the mage. "Who said I was wooing anyone? And since when is the boss your best friend? You've been with the Inquisition for what— _a month_?" 

"I'm an excellent judge of character," Dorian said, his eyes narrowed at Bull. "Not to mention we _have_ been through a lot in that brief period of time. So _yes_ , she _is_. And I say you are wooing her, because there is no doubt in my mind that is your intention." Dorian stared at Bull for a moment, pressing his lips together. "But what I can't figure out is if you only want her as another notch in your bedpost, or something more manipulative is afoot. I know plenty about your Ben-Hassrath methods."

"Oh really?" While he didn't doubt Dorian had some knowledge about the Qunari— and _maybe_ the Ben-Hassrath, him being a Tevinter noble meant that it was hearsay of hearsay, with a biased twist.

On the other side of the tavern the entrance door opened, letting in a cool breeze from the miserable rainy night. Bull glanced over to see Lavellan and Cullen walk in. As the patrons welcomed them into the tavern, Cullen straightened his posture, puffing his chest out just a little bit. 

Bull smiled to himself. Was the Commander trying to impress the Inquisitor? Interesting.

"Liadan!" Dorian called, waving her over to where he was sitting. "Over here!" 

The boss smiled at Dorian— but as her eyes fell on Bull, the smile vanished. He held back the ' _I told you so_ ' he so wanted to throw in the Dorian's face. Dorian would just play dumb to her obvious avoidance. Despite her clear hesitations, however, they did begin to make their way towards where he and Dorian were sitting. 

Claire returned with two wine glasses and a sultry smile on her face. "Here you are," she said. Her eyes were fixed on Bull, boldly inviting him to much more pleasurable pursuits. 

Any other night, he would have took her up on it in a heartbeat. However, Bull had no doubt that would be some sort of justification in the Vint's mind, so he only winked at the barmaid. "Thanks Claire. Put them on my tab, ok?"

She blinked for a moment, the disappointment showing clearly on her face. But in an instant she was smiling again. "Of course, Honey Bull."

Of course Lavellan reached them in just enough time to hear Claire say ' _Honey Bull_.' She eyed the barmaid as Claire returned back to her duties. Meanwhile Cullen, who was hovering behind the boss gave a disapproving glare. 

Bull shrugged.

"So glad you decided to join me for a drink," Dorian said, pulling the Inquisitor towards him with a wide grin. "And you brought Commander Cullen with you? How lovely!" He gave her a knowing wink as she slid into the chair next to him. 

The Commander's cheeks flushed pink. "I just was accompanying the Inquisitor," he said with his nervous stuttering. He looked back to the door of the tavern. "Perhaps I should—"

"Nonsense!" Dorian said as he waved his free arm. "Come, sit with us, Commander! Strapping young Templars such as yourself are always welcome company in my book."

Cullen looked around the tavern nervously. Bull held back a laugh as the Commander of the Inquisition was clearly having a moment of crisis trying to decide what to do. Finally, Cullen resigned himself to sitting down, across from the two of them.

"I thought we would give this a try," Lavellan said. Her smile returned as she held up a dusty bottle of Vint-9 Rowan's Rose. 

Dorian's eyes widened. "A bottle from your personal collection? You are spoiling me!"

Smirking, she handed the bottle over to Dorian. "It's an apology for getting you wet and also having to deal with Vivienne for a prolonged amount of time."

"Dear me, you shouldn't have!" he said with a wide grin. "Who am I kidding? Of course you should have! It seemed like an _eternity_!" Dorian swooned dramatically. "Especially after you told me I couldn't hit her with any spells. It was pure agony, I tell you. I'm amazed I got through it." Standing up from the table, Dorian gave Cullen a wide smile. "Shall we get some clean glasses so we can savor the flavor, Commander?"

"I-" Cullen sputtered. 

"Of course you'll help," Dorian said, grabbing Cullen's right arm and pulling him towards the bar. "Can't carry four all by my lonesome!" Cullen looked back at the table, a helpless look on his face, as Dorian began to regale him with an in-depth history of the vintage. 

Shaking her head, Lavellan let out a small sigh. For a quick moment, her eyes met Bull's, but then quickly fixed on the table. "So..." she said, clearing her throat.

"So?"

"Leliana tells me that you want to come with us to Crestwood tomorrow?"

Bull raised his eyebrow expectantly. "Yeah...?" 

"I just wanted to..." She blinked several times. "I wanted to make sure you were aware of the situation in Crestwood."

"I'm aware," Bull said slowly. He stared at the Inquisitor, trying to understand what this hesitation of hers was. Was she going to try to talk him out of going because she didn't want him there? 

"And you still want to go? To the place where the undead and demons are running rampant," she said. Blinking again, she squinted at him. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, boss, I'm sure." 

"But you _hate_ demons," Lavellan countered. She finally looked up from the table, eying him— well, his shoulder at least— suspiciously. 

"I do, but—" Bull let out a sigh as he crossed his arms against his chest. "I don't know... As your bodyguard, I should be there, right?"

Finally managing the courage, she looked Bull in the eye. "Even if Cole and Varric are coming with me?"

" _Especially_ if you're taking them," Bull said, leaning forward. "Cole will be too wrapped up with all the spirits and demons, and Varric will be tripping over himself to impress the Champion. They won't be watching your back." 

"But you will," Liadan replied. She stared at Iron Bull as if he was a puzzle she could solve.

"I will." 

The time at Crestwood would do her good. It was an easy enough task— meet with the Warden and then return to Skyhold. Lavellan would be fine, and the last thing she needed was more hand holding. She needed to be able to do this on her own, so she could see that she could.

With fresh glasses in hand, Dorian and Cullen returned to the table. Dorian scooted his chair next to her and gave her a wide smile. "So Liadan, right before you arrived, Bull and I were discussing the fact that Qunari don't love." He started to pour the Vint-9 Rowan's Rose. 

Narrowing his eye, Bull grunted. "Now that's just not true, and you know it Dorian." He took one of the glasses with a raised eyebrow. Now what was the Vint up to? 

"But there's no marriage within the Qun," Dorian said with a shrug. "It's not a hard leap to think that you never develop any romantic attachments."

Bull held back a laugh. So that's what it was. It made sense— since Dorian was convinced that Bull was trying to get into her pants, the best way to prevent it was to tell her how non-committal the Qunari were. Because surely that would stop his nonexistent attempt at having sex with the Inquisitor.

Dorian offered Lavellan the next glass, giving Bull a smug look. 

Oblivious to what Dorian was doing, she nodded in thanks as she took the glass. "Is that true?" she asked as she looked at Bull's shoulder once more, clearly surprised by this information. 

Shrugging, Bull replied, "Yeah that's true. Qunari love our friends like anyone does, but we don't have sex with them." 

"Qunari don't have sex?" She blinked again.

Bull chuckled. "Oh, we _definitely_ have sex. The Tamassran pop your cork whenever you need it."

Beside him, Cullen choked on his drink.

Laughing loudly, Bull swatted Cullen hard on the back. "You okay there, Cullen?"

"And why should I be surprised that the boar has no manners in polite company?" Dorian muttered, shaking his head. 

"Hey, the boss asked a question. I answered it."

Clearing his throat, Dorian gave Bull a scalding look. "Let's change the subject, shall we? Before you further debauch the mind of our lovely naive Fereldan Commander here."

"Not _so_ naive," Cullen admitted. His voice was a bit strained from the liquor going down the wrong pipe, and his ears were bright pink. "But," he added, clearing his throat as he nodded towards the Inquisitor, "Perhaps it's not the best conversation to have in front of the Herald of Andraste."

"What? Suddenly I can't know what sex is anymore?" she said, clearly teasing. She playfully narrowed her eyes at the Commander 

It appeared Bull was not the only one who enjoyed winding up the dear Commander. 

Cullen looked as if he had swallowed dragon's piss. "No— that's not— I mean you _can_ — you _should_ —" Burying his face in his hands, Cullen let out a loud sigh. "Maker! Can we just talk about anything else?"

"A little birdie told me you're in the traveling party for Crestwood tomorrow, Bull," Dorian said. He took a slow sip from his glass of the Vint-9. "Didn't think you would want to go on such an outing— what with the scores of undead and all."

With a shrug, Bull said, "It's been a while since I've been out in the field with the boss. Thought it was time to volunteer." Eyeing Cullen, Bull added, "Besides, the reports mention there's a dragon problem as well. You know me."

Lavellan pinched her nose. "And now comes the truth. I should have known."

Cullen looked at Bull wearily. "You aren't—" he sputtered. "That wasn't why you volunteered, was it? Without more support from the soldiers— You can't endanger the Inquisitor in such a haphazard—"

"Easy, Cullen," Bull replied, grinning. Well that was the answer to the question if Cullen was a little sweet on the boss or not. "I was just kidding. The last thing I would want to do is take on a dragon in the pouring rain," he added with a laugh. 

The tense look on Cullen's face eased. The Commander let out a soft "Oh" before he continued working on his drink.

Bull tilted his head to the side. "Now of course, if it _stops raining_ while we're there, that's a different story..." 

Cullen once again choked on his drink, this time managing to spit some of it on Dorian. 

Narrowing his eyes at Bull, Dorian sneered. "Charming."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I have to apologize for this chapter taking so long! Chapter 3 was finished and ready to go, but then when I started to re-read it for editing, I realized some scenes that I had just summed up in a paragraph or two actually needed to be expanded and shown rather than told (i.e. parts 1 & 2 of this chapter). So I started writing them. Then midterms happened. Then _Mass Effect: Andromeda_ consumed my life. And that brings us to now. So here's the chapter (finally), along with all the fluff that comes with it. I'm so excited to finally post it, as it has my favorite scene ❤
> 
> For those of you who like to know what the author's intended soundtrack is for certain scenes, the background for any fight scene in this chapter is "Keep Assault" from the game. The song is sadly _not_ on the _Dragon Age: Inquisition_ soundtrack, but can be found on YT. For the the fluff scenes--and you'll know them when you get to them--I looped "Just Friends" from the _Hunger Games: Catching Fire_ soundtrack a lot. The song "Neptune" by Sleeping At Last, which I consider the "love theme" for Iron Bull and Liadan, is what I played for days while I wrote the final scene in this chapter. One day, I'll just compile all these things in some kind of list.
> 
> Lots of quotes from _DAI_ are sprinkled throughout this chapter. Characters, of course, belong to BioWare. Thank you BioWare for stealing many hours of my life, but giving me so much joy in return.
> 
> ENJOY!

1.

Although her life had become nothing but a comedy of errors since she fell out of the Breach, Liadan had not had so many things go so wrong in so little time as they did in Crestwood.

Liadan had tried to remain optimistic. Although not being warm or completely dry since arriving in Crestwood was definitely making it harder and harder to do so. Especially when it looked as though the rain was never going to stop. Somewhere around the sixth cave that had a mess of giant spiders and red lyrium instead of Hawke's warden, all four of them had become a little stressed out. 

It may have been worse for Liadan than the others. 

The constant wetness and cold were reminders of Redcliffe's dungeon. Liadan had managed well enough to distract herself during their journey. It was easy when she could focus on scouting, hunting, and the general chores of daily travel. But once it was night, and her body was at rest, her mind tended to betray her. 

Not to mention every time they found red lyrium in Crestwood, Liadan's blood ran cold.

And she was still trying not to think about the rift glowing ominously over the lake and how in she would possibly be able to stop it.

Even camping was a difficult task in Crestwood. 

"Andraste's tits! Have I mentioned how much I hate rain?" Varric said, his voice raised so he could be heard despite the downpour. He tugged at the tarpaulin, pulling it as tight as possible, while the rain pounded against his face. 

Securing the last part of the tent he was working on, Iron Bull rolled his eyes. "Yes, about a million times now," he called into the rain. "Don't forget— this is your friend's contact. Next time, get them to arrange a meeting somewhere drier. Maybe somewhere tropical, like Emprise du Lion?" Iron Bull huffed. 

As she started to tie the last secure knot on their canvas tarpaulin, a gust of wind slammed against them. The knot came loose and her corner of the tarpaulin flapped furiously in the wind, it's ties whipping Liadan in the face before flying away. " _Fenedhis_!" she cursed, flailing to grab it before it had the chance to knock over anything in the camp they had spent the past hour getting soaked over. 

The cloth itself was dancing in the gusts far too high for her to reach. She grit her teeth, trying to not let out the frustrated yell that was building in her throat. All she wanted to do was get camp set up, eat, and then try to sleep so she could at least attempt to get warm under her blankets for a short while before they had to wake up and get soaked all over again. 

"I got it!" Iron Bull said, suddenly much closer to her then he had been a few moments previous. Turning to the side, she saw the Qunari a few steps to her right, reaching over her head to snatch the flapping cloth. He gave it a yank to pull it taut before offering it back to Liadan. "Here," he said, the frustration in his voice completely gone. 

Liadan felt her cheeks grow warm against the stinging rain. "Maybe you should tie it," she said, pushing the offered corner back towards Iron Bull. "I don't want to mess it up again."

Grabbing her hands, Iron Bull placed the corner of the canvas firmly in her grip. "You won't."

Liadan tightened her fist around the canvas and pulled once more to double check the tarpaulin was taut before tying it down. When the knot was secured, she felt Iron Bull's large hand on her head, gently messing with her hair. "Nice job, boss," he said before walking past her into the dry haven they had created with the tarpaulin. She followed suit, wanting to escape the rain pounding against her face. 

Varric and Cole were busy putting the finishing touches on their camp. Looking up from where he was setting up the campfire, Cole blinked his big eyes at Liadan as she knelt beside him. With the wet conditions, fires at night were a near impossibility. There was only wet wood everywhere, and even with the tarpaulin, there was a chance of losing the fire to the wind and rain if they did manage to get one started. So they had to rely on Liadan's magic. Holding her hands out to where Cole had set up a small circle made of rocks, Liadan summoned a fire. It was an old elven spell that they used to stay warm on stormy nights. 

The spell would only last three hours or so, but hopefully by then they would be asleep for a little while. For the time being, they could huddle close to the fire for warmth and for a chance to get dry, if only for a few blissful moments. 

Cole continued to stare at her as the spell took hold. When they had first met, being under the scrutiny of his large pale eyes had unnerved her somewhat. But the more time she spent with Cole, Liadan found herself getting used to it. Under the wings of Iron Bull and Varric, the boy started to understand the concept of personal boundaries. During their journey to Crestwood, she had heard Iron Bull mutter the words _private thoughts_ more than once to Cole, and the boy would drop the subject instead of endlessly pick at it as he once did. Varric chose to take a more indirect approach of redirecting Cole's attention to himself. Seeing as Varric was very open with everything, he didn't seem to mind having his thoughts open to his companions. Well, unless a certain crossbow ( _or more likely its namesake_ ) was brought up. 

"Is it the rain?" Cole asked quietly, mindful of their other companions finishing up with the tents. "The shadows are falling, but the glow is not here. Don't get lost. Hold onto this moment."

"I'm fine." 

Cole ducked his head under the large brim of his hat. "Not when you look at his face. Why does that memory stick harder than the others?"

Her eyes snapped over to where Iron Bull was, bent over, securing the last of the tents. Her eyes bore into his massive shoulders, trying to push her thoughts aside. The Qunari froze in what he was doing, the muscles in his back tensing, as if he could sense her eyes on him. But that was impossible— no one was _that_ good. 

"Guilt," she quietly mumbled.

"Guilt over what?" Cole asked, staring at the fire in front of them, instead at her. "The red blurs his eyes. His shoulders are slumped, defeated. Fear bubbles in my throat. _This wasn't supposed to happen_. But you fixed things. That place isn't there anymore."

"It could still happen," she said, covering her face with her hands. This was not the time or the place to unravel this. She needed to be strong. She was the Inquisitor now and no amount of nagging doubt or guilt could overtake her now— or that dark future would happen. 

"No, that didn't help," Cole said, his hands fidgeting in front of him. "I tugged on the tangle and tightened the knot. Impossible tasks, improbable expectations, can't save—"

"Oh this sounds pleasant," Varric said with an amused hum as he approached the fire. "Kid, why don't you give it a rest for a little while? We're all tired and Snowflake here looks like she's about to make a break for it and leave us high and... well definitely not dry if she leaves us in this place. Don't know about you, but I'd prefer a warm breakfast in the morning— and she's the only way we'll get one in this shithole."

"Sorry," Cole muttered, tugging down on the brim of his hat. "I didn't mean to."

Pushing forth the best smile she could muster under the circumstances, Liadan put her hand on the boy's shoulders. "I know, Cole. It's fine."

Sliding up beside them, Varric gave a small supportive push on Liadan's shoulder with his own. "You know, this torrent of rain reminds me of this time Hawke had a little business with some mercenaries off the Wounded Coast. Back then, I never thought I'd ever be dry again..." 

As Varric spoke, Iron Bull also finished with his tent and joined the group by the fire— choosing to sit opposite of where Liadan was sitting. She glanced up to see his eye locked on her. His intense stare felt as if it bore through her. She half expected for him to say something, anything. He was a Ben-Hassrath after all... he had to know something was wrong.

But Iron Bull sat there, quietly watching her. 

Oblivious, Varric continued his story. "We had to search out some caves to find this poor half elf boy, Feynriel, who'd been captured by slavers while trying to get out of Kirkwall before Templars caught up with him."

With a slight shake of her head, Liadan turned her attention back to the dwarf. "A mage?" she asked, feigning interest. It was obvious that he was trying to distract her dark thoughts, and she was more than willing to let him.

Varric shrugged. "He'd been showing abnormal dreaming powers."

" _Somniari_?" Liadan said, raising an eyebrow. 

"What's a _sominari_?" Cole asked, tilting his head toward Liadan. 

"They can bend the very nature of the Fade in their dreams."

"They can _what_ now?" Iron Bull said, his voice rumbling. "Shit, there are mages that can _do that_?" He pushed his large hand across his face, his eye a bit wider than it had been a few moments previous.

"Not as many as there used to be," Liadan said, tilting her head to the side in thought. "My clan has not seen one in several generations, but yes, they exist."

"And the risk that they pose if they turn into an abomination is even worse than most mages, to my understanding," Varric added. "There was this Templar in Kirkwall, Ser Thrask, who was trying to help him— But there were complications in the boy's escape attempt. So there we were, on the Wounded Coast trying to practically swim to this cave where a pack of slavers were lying in wait..."

As Varric spun his tale, Liadan could feel the shadows subsiding. She knew they would be back soon enough, but for now, she could try to get a moment of peace.

 

2.

After his years in Seheron, Bull was more than familiar with the look a person would have in their eyes when they had completely given into despair. In the streets of Seheron, one never knew when a skirmish would break out. Death hovered over everyone— even those not involved with the multiple factions at war. You could be out buying bread, and then suddenly find yourself dead at the hands of Vints, Tal-Vashoth, Fog Warriors, or any combination of the three. With the constant looming danger hanging over you, it was hard not to completely give up on life.

After walking into the gates of Crestwood village, Bull saw the same haunted look in villagers' eyes.

And if the expression on the boss' face was any indication, she saw it too. Her eyes locked on the sad looking front gates, barely holding together. "What happened here?" she said, her voice full of concern. 

Varric shook his head as he moved to cover Lavellan's right flank. "Harding said there had been reports of—" 

A loud shout came from behind them. " _Undead by the gates!_ " 

His hands automatically going to his weapon, Bull pulled his axe out and saw beside him that Lavellan was doing the same. "The guards need help!" she yelled as she ran forward. 

Bull's legs moved of their own volition, his large bulk making it difficult to keep up with her Fade jumping, but damn if he wasn't going to try. One of these days, she was going to understand how bodyguards worked, so help him. 

The unmistakable hum of Bianca's bows flew by Bull's right ear as he ran. The arrow landed straight in the eye of one of the approaching corpses. "They're coming from the lake!" Varric yelled.

They had encountered a few of the walking rotting corpses since arriving in Crestwood, but this was the biggest number they had seen in a group. There were at least twenty creatures, slowly moving their way through to get to the village gates. The eyes of the corpses were clouded, but they were focused on their target ahead. 

Bull was already swinging his axe by the time he reached the village gates. Lavellan was already in the thick of it, herself surrounded by five corpses slowly trying to push their way past her. She would have none of it. Her fire spells were shooting left and right with a ferocity that Bull had not seen in her since the attack on Haven. 

One of the corpses stabbing at him with a rusted blade brought him out of his thoughts. Luckily, the undead were slow movers, so he easily parried the strike and slammed the large head of the axe deep into the corpse's shoulder. A foul smelling black ooze seeped from the wound. Bull pushed the blade further, trying to cut the damn thing in half, but it just kept pushing forward. With a loud shout, he charged the corpse, slamming into another just behind it. The axe's blade broke through the other corpse's skin as well, making the smell only worse. The smell of stale rotting flesh. Bull felt a wave of nausea course through him as dozens of memories from Sehron came flooding back to him. 

The two corpses burst into flames. 

Bull looked over his shoulder to Lavellan, who was looking at him with concern written clearly on her face. He looked back to the burning husks in front of him, and kicked them away from his axe with his armored leg. 

In an instant, she was at his side, her staff ready. "You alright?" she asked. She was pointedly not looking at him, and instead focused her magic on the one remaining corpse standing. 

"Fine," he said through his teeth. 

Cole gave the final blow to the last standing corpse. The spirit boy said something, but Bull couldn't hear it over the pounding rain. 

Beside him, Bull could feel the boss' eyes still fixed on him. "I'm fine, boss, really," he said, a little too defensively, but _fuck_ he still was trying to get a handle on those memories flooding his mind. Despite the rain pouring down on top of them, he could still feel the dry winds from Sehron blowing against his face. He shook his head, trying to push the memories away. "They're just corpses. I knew what I signed up for in coming here."

"You hesitated," Lavellan said.

Bull's head snapped towards her. " _What?_ "

She looked up at his face for a moment, the look of worry still shining in her eyes. "You just froze out there. What happened?"

"Nothing," Bull shook his head. "Old memories. Bad ones. Not the best conversation material." 

Lavellan opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a few of the villagers catching up to them. 

"How many did we lose?" one of the villagers asked. He was young, maybe eighteen, and carried a wooden shield that had seen better days. 

An older man, wearing a rusted chest-plate, let out a long sigh. "Thank the Maker, no one this time."

The younger one nodded his head. The relief on his face was strained. "Did you see? The corpses are coming from where Old Crestwood used to be."

"Amount of people we lost back during the Blight, I'm not surprised," the older man said with a deep sigh. "Thank for your help, Your Worship. We are in your debt, truly. But I'm afraid we haven't seen the end of these creatures."

Lavellan walked towards them, replacing her staff on her back. "What's going on here?"

It would be a lie to say that Bull wasn't thankful for the distraction. The last thing he needed was the boss needling him about what happened in Seheron. 

"Ever since that green light appeared, undead keep rising from the lake," the younger villager said, pointing to the sickly green glow hanging over the lake. 

It was hard to ignore the feeling of unease Bull felt in the pit of his stomach every time he looked at the lake. However they were going to close that rift, it would not be easy. 

"The mayor can tell you more," the villager continued. "I hope Andraste sent you, Your Worship. We've been trapped here for weeks."

"Weeks?" Varric asked, joining the group now that the fight was over. "Maker's balls, it's worse than Nightingale's scouts reported." 

Frowning, Lavellan nodded. "Where is the mayor now?" 

The older villager pointed to a house on the top of the slope the village was built on. "He should be in there. Hasn't come out since the attacks started. Won't even help us defend the village."

"He's been writing correspondence to get us help," the younger one reasoned. He turned to Lavellan, a bright smile on his face. "And now the Herald has come to save us!"

Bull watched as Lavellan shifted uncomfortably. This was the problem that he had mentioned to Leliana. The boss is in charge now, people were going to look up to her for support, advice, a figure of hope. And she wasn't prepared for any of it. 

"And she will," Bull said. The two villagers and Lavellan turned their heads in his direction. The latter with a less than pleased expression on her face.

"We will do what we can," she amended, gently. "Thank you for you time. I'll go speak with the mayor immediately." Lavellan shot a warning look over to Bull before heading into the village.

The village of Crestwood was in worse shape then Bull had assumed at first glance. From the state of the houses, it looked as if the village was already rundown before the onslaught of the undead was brought down on their heads. After the attacks started, it was all they could do to not let the corpses break through their thin wooden fences. It was frankly a miracle they had made it so long. 

But to watch the faces of the villagers as the Inquisitor walked passed them, it was as if the weeks of desperation had finally come to an end. They watched her silently, eyes round, as if she were the faintest shimmers of the sun breaking through the clouds after a long and dangerous storm.

Lavellan glared at Bull as he jogged up to her side. "You shouldn't do that," she said quietly as they walked up the hill to the mayor's house. 

"Do what?" 

Sighing, she shook her head. "Say things like that," she replied, making sure to keep her voice down. "We don't know that we can help them."

Raising an eyebrow, Bull looked down at her. "These people have been fighting off the undead for weeks, boss. Probably without many reprieves. They need hope."

Lavellan stopped in her steps. Balling her fists at her sides, she glared up at Bull. "And what if the undead don't stop coming, even after we close the rift? Or we _can't_ close it? The last thing they need is false hope."

Bull stared. "Do _you_ think that you're a false hope? That the Inquisition is?"

"I-" 

Varric cleared his throat rather loudly as he approached Lavellan's left side. "Look, I'm all for healthy conversations about ego, but maybe this _isn't_ the best place to be having it?" He nodded to some of the villagers behind them, who were still staring, now listening raptly to their every word.

Giving Bull one last warning glare, Lavellan made her way quickly to the mayor's house. 

Before Lavellan could even knock, the door opened revealing an older gentleman with thinning gray hair. The guilty look in the mayor's eyes ran a chill down Bull's spine. This mayor had some terrible secret he was desperate to hide.

The lips of the mayor's mouth curled in a half-hearted attempt at a smile. "The Inquisitor? Mayor Dedrick of Crestwood Village. At your service, despite everything."

 

3.

When the mayor of Crestwood told them that Caer Bronach was overrun with bandits, he failed to mention that they were _incredibly well prepared and well armed_ bandits. Liadan thanked the Creators that the Highwaymen didn't have any mages. While there were dozens of bandits against the four of them, being the sole mage had it's advantages.

"Cole, _move_!" Liadan called as she threw a fireball in his direction.

The spirit didn't even need the warning, it seemed, as he already had side stepped the archer he was fighting on the stable roof. The fireball struck the archer finally knocking him down to the ground. Cole hopped onto the stone staircase and started running up the stairs to give Varric assistance. 

Liadan gripped her staff tightly as she made her own way to the stone staircase. 

From behind her, Liadan heard Iron Bull shout, " _Boss!_ "

Glancing behind her she saw another Highwayman behind her— double daggers flashing as he went in for an attack. Liadan jumped to her right, dodging the attack, if only just. The dagger of the prowler's blade cut through her long jacket, but thankfully nothing else. Unrelenting, the prowler went in for another attack, but not before Liadan cast an Immolate spell right under her attacker's feet. As the prowler was knocked off balance, Iron Bull attacked from behind, swinging his large axe, knocking the rogue hard into one of the support beams of the stable. 

"Thank you," Liadan said, catching her breath. "I hate when they sneak up like that."

"It's what I'm here for, boss," Iron Bull said, smirking. "Although we need to work on your field perception." 

"And I'm supposed to listen to a Qunari with no depth perception?" Liadan shot back teasingly. She looked up to meet him in the eye, but instantly thought better of it and focused on his shoulder instead. There was blood dripping down his arm, but in the dark and the pouring rain, it was hard to tell if it was his or someone else's. Not that he would tell her.

"We can argue about perception and depth _later_ ," Iron Bull replied teasingly. Liadan rolled her eyes. Iron Bull slapped his hand on Liadan's back as walked past her. It made her stumble forward from the impact. "Can't let Varric and the kid have all of the fun! Let's go!" 

"But— your arm—" Liadan stumbled after him. 

"It's fine!" Iron Bull called over his shoulder.

As they made their way through the keep, Iron Bull never left Liadan's side. They had fought together in the field before, but perhaps because there was always two others traveling with them, Liadan had not noticed how well her and Iron Bull's fighting skills complimented one another. Iron Bull used his menacing presence to back the bandits into a corner, only to have a fire spell from Liadan blind them before his strike. While Iron Bull was always open with his discomfort with mages, in the field he reveled in Liadan's fire attacks, laughing heartily as her well placed explosions added to the mayhem. 

They caught up with Varric and Cole on the top level balcony without too much trouble. Liadan had received the odd hit or two, but it was nothing dire. Varric and Cole were already elbow deep in Highwaymen clinging to their hold on the Keep. Liadan rushed to Varric's side, and started to give him back up against the archers. "Nice of you two to drop in," Varric called as he fired Bianca at the archers who were raining down arrows on them, while Cole vanished in and out of sight as he tried to break the archer's defenses with his daggers. "You were taking so long, I was worried you had eloped!" 

"Worried or hoping?" Iron Bull smirked as his axe clanged hard against the shield of one of the Highwaymen defenders. 

Varric smirked at Iron Bull. "Well, it would have definitely made an interesting turn in my story—"

" _Focus!_ " Liadan called. She summoned a storm of lightning around the defender Iron Bull was fighting she was hoping to distract the bandit. The defender was overtaken by the beautiful violet glow of Liadan's lightning, allowing Iron Bull to knock the defender's shield out of his hands and manage to finish him off.

From behind her, Varric chuckled. "Don't appreciate our battlefield banter, Snowflake?"

"I'd rather you'd wait until we don't have five archers breathing down our necks," Liadan retorted. She gave Varric an incredulous glare over her shoulder.

Varric only laughed harder. "It's the best time to do it! Gives the gallows humor that extra _oomph_."

"Little help!" Iron Bull called. He was fighting off the remaining two foot-soldiers, who had surrounded him as he brought the defender down.

Swearing under his breath, Varric let loose a storm of arrows as Liadan pulled from the Fade. Her mana was depleting quickly, but she had enough in her to cast Immolate on one of the foot-soldiers. Cole, having taken care of the other archers, appeared on Iron Bull's left side, daggers at the ready. 

With the last of her mana, she cast a barrier on Iron Bull and Cole before falling to her knees. Varric was by her side instantly, hand on her back. "You okay, Snowflake?" 

"I'm fine—" Liadan gasped. "Drained— I'm fine— I just need a few minutes—"

"Seeing as you said ' _I'm fine_ ' twice, I know it's _got_ to be true. Here," he said offering a lyrium bottle he had tucked away in his pack. "Drink it before you tell me you're fine a third time."

"I'm—" Liadan pressed her lips together. She took the bottle, glaring at the dwarf. He watched her intently until she uncorked the bottle and started drinking. The bitter, but cooling, liquid coated her throat. Lyrium was awful for a number of reasons— so she tried to avoid taking any at all costs. She had to force herself to swallow.

As Liadan finished off the small bottle of lyrium, Varric turned his attention back to where Iron Bull and Cole were fighting. "Shit," he muttered. 

Her attention snapped to to the walkway behind where Iron Bull and Cole were finishing off the last foot-solider, where two more heavily armed Highwaymen and someone who was clearly their Chief were approaching. The Chief was carrying a large menacing looking maul over his shoulder, and the bulk of his arms showed that the man could handle such a large weapon. Iron Bull's back was toward the oncoming bandits, leaving himself wide open for an attack. 

Without hesitation, Liadan tightened her grip on her staff and stepped through the Fade to reach the bandits before they reached Iron Bull. The air pressing down on her as she Fade jumped, Liadan barely heard Varric shout " _Snowflake!_ " as she reappeared a few steps in front of the Highwaymen Chief. 

For a moment, her heartbeat pounded in her ears as the massive warrior stared her down. How could she be so careless? Her body was just in shock of using too much mana, and she was going head first into a three-against-one fight very much not in her favor. 

But before her thoughts crippled her, her adrenaline took over. 

She pulled the hilt of her Spirit Blade out of her belt and summoned every ounce of magic left in her body to create the glowing blade. The Highwaymen Chief's eyes widened as she slashed at him with it. The wild strike knocked him back a few feet, as well as got the attention of the two defenders a few feet away. Surrounded, Liadan held the Spirit Blade up defensively, only to have it vanish back into the Fade. " _Fenedhis_ ," she muttered as she watched the Chief grin. Rolling his shoulders, he brought the maul high over his head and swung down. Liadan held her staff up and braced for the impact that was to come.

Instead, she felt a hand on her side, pushing her towards the wall. She managed to catch herself before going face first into the stone, only to turn and see Iron Bull taking the blow instead. Pushing her aside must have left him open for the attack. He let out a low groan of pain as he was knocked down to his knees, hands planted on the stone. Iron Bull's axe clanged loudly on the stone as it landed by her feet. 

For a moment, her world slowed. She was no longer in Crestwood, but in Redcliffe again. Iron Bull was falling— _dead_ — to the ground with the glow of red lyrium surrounding them. 

It was happening again.

And this time there would be no magical time amulet that would make things right. 

Liadan felt her stomach drop. 

" _Bull!_ " her voice croaked. Her feet stumbled as she tried to help him. Before she could move, Cole appeared beside where Iron Bull was down. Cole's daggers flashed as he jumped towards Highwaymen Chief. 

Iron Bull was huddled low to the ground, winded from the blow. She turned her attention to the two defenders, who had set their sights on Varric, who was still standing on the balcony giving cover to Cole as he pushed the Chief away from where Bull was recovering. 

Apparently, the Highwaymen's strategy was to take out the warrior and leave the two rogues and mage to defend for themselves. It was smart of them, but she wasn't going to give up so easily. 

"Boss!" Iron Bull coughed. He still wasn't standing, but Liadan could tell from how he held himself up that he had recovered at least a little. He held up one hand, signaling that he needed his weapon back. 

Tucking the spirit blade hilt back into her belt, Liadan grabbed Iron Bull's axe and stumbled forward, trying to lift it. It was too heavy for her to carry so she dragged it against the stone, the metal head of the axe sparking as she made her way to Iron Bull. "Here," she said, a bit breathless from dragging the heavy weapon. 

The Iron Bull took it in one hand and smirked at her. "Thanks," he said with a nod. It was as if holding his axe revived him. Iron Bull pushed himself standing, weapon ready, glancing quickly between Cole struggling against the Highwaymen Chief, and the two defenders baring down on Varric. "How should we play this, boss?" he said, stretching his shoulders. "We need to end this now."

"I can only manage a few small spells." Liadan glanced up at the Qunari worriedly as she wiped the rain from her eyes. "Your wounds—"

"—Can wait," Iron Bull said. His lips snarled as gave Liadan a quick glare. 

She stared at him for a moment. Narrowing her eyes, she ordered, "Help Cole. I'll cover Varric." 

Iron Bull nodded in agreement. As he rushed to help Cole, Liadan summoned another barrier over Iron Bull. He glanced over his shoulder at her with a disapproving look. He could be mad at her all he wanted— she still wasn't going to let him go headfirst back into battle with no protection after taking that blow for her. Of course casting it had eaten up what little mana she had left in her reserves, but there was no way for him to know that. 

Stepping through the Fade again, Liadan placed herself a safe enough distance away, but made sure she could keep an eye on both fights. She tossed an Antivan fire grenade towards the two defenders attacking Varric, smiling as the flames burst around them. She could feel waves of warmth from the flames over her skin. Varric took the advantage of the distraction and slipped into the shadows, only to emerge beside Liadan as she began summoning basic attacks with her staff. It would be all she could manage until after she rested. 

"Is Tiny okay?" Varric loaded an explosive arrow into Bianca's barrel. 

"Probably," Liadan replied as Varric let the arrow loose. It made impact against one of the defender's shields, only making adding to the fire around them. 

Varric let out a whoop. "One more for me!" He glanced up at Liadan as she continued to attack the remaining defender. "You look pale, Snowflake."

Liadan grunted her reply, remaining focused on the fight. She could feel a small amount of magic return to her, and she sent it back out right away, summoning a surge of lightning magic towards the last defender just as lightning flashed in the distance. 

She turned her attention to Iron Bull and Cole, who were still taking on the Highwaymen Chief. Cole, ever the river, flowed back and forth around the Chief, making precise, albeit small, strikes against the Chief's defenses. Meanwhile, Iron Bull was definitely waining, the range of his attack dwindling on each swing.

Liadan felt the drag from the Fade as she started to attack the Highwaymen Chief from where she was standing. _Just a bit further..._ she told herself as she threw a fireball towards him. 

" _Snowflake_ ," Varric pressed. "Your breathing—"

It wasn't until Varric pointed it out that Liadan realized how thick the air had become. She swallowed hard. "I'm fine," she wheezed. "Only a bit more." She twirled the staff in her hands, desperately pushing out every bit of mana that she could. Beside her, she could hear Varric continuously firing arrows towards the Chief, but her vision was starting to blur. 

Iron Bull let out a loud bellow he swung his axe in a whirlwind towards the Chief, finally breaking through his solid defenses. The Chief fell to his knees as Cole landed the finishing blow. "Next!" Bull roared, slamming the pommel of his axe hard on the stone. 

Liadan felt herself slip to her knees, her staff clattering somewhere close by. Before everything became dark, she heard Iron Bull's voice call to her from a distance.

 

4.

One good thing about their newly acquired Keep was that there was a large roof to give them a break from the rainstorm.

Bull carried Lavellan's limp body to cover. Cole quickly cleared a bench they had found for her while Varric hastily wrote a letter to inform Inquisition scouts they had taken Caer Bronach but that the Inquisitor possibly needed medical attention after the fight. 

Bull laid Lavellan gently on the bench, the wood groaning under just her tiny weight. He stared at her, his eye narrowed, as a mixture of worry and anger washed over him. Bull brushed his right thumb over the old scar on her forehead as he tried to suppress the anxiety bubbling inside. Her normally tanned skin was way too pale. Her vallaslin seemed much darker, as well as the bags under her eyes. 

Shit, was she even sleeping anymore?

Cole's mutterings probably weren't helping the situation. "The bleeding madness sings, calling, reaching. Crawling under the skin. He's gone. Gone."

"She's just wiped out from using all that magic," Varric said assuringly. His note done, he walked over to Cole and patted him on the shoulder. "Look, kid, she's still breathing. She'll be fine. It'd happen to Hawke sometimes too after a big fight. Andraste's tits, the elf would never stop letting her have it when she woke up."

"Understandable," Bull grunted. "I've never seen a mage drain themselves dry like that." He stood up from kneeling by the bench, satisfied that the boss was in fact breathing, had no wounds, and was in no danger of rolling off the bench until he figured out a better set up. He'd prefer to get her dry, instead of staying in those sopping wet robes and armor, but he wasn't about to even try to undress her. At least not with Cole and Varric around— because the last thing he needed was to hear his own thoughts as he undressed her spoken aloud while the dwarf raptly listened (and probably took notes).

Beside him Cole opened his mouth to reply, but Bull shook his head. Changing the subject, he shot Cole a wry grin. "What a fight, huh? That was the first time I'd seen you go at it full force. You're a fast little guy, Cole."

Cole blinked up at Bull. "Do you wish you were faster, the Iron Bull?" he asked quietly. 

_Sometimes. Like when the boss is about to do stupid shit,_ Bull lamented to himself. He shook his head, not letting his brain go down that path with Cole right in front of him. "Nah. Just as soon stand there and let 'em come to me when they're ready to die."

"Then it's them, not you," Cole offered, tilting his head to the side. "You don't want to kill. You want to defend."

Bull narrowed his eye at the spirit boy. "Hey, don't go around saying crap like that. I _like_ killing."

"But you give them a chance. You make them choose. So it's their fault."

" _Just_ —" Bull let out a sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Come on, kid. You're just making it _weird_."

"But that fight was different. It wasn't in defense. You were angry. Blood boiling. Like in Seheron, the gray started to creep in. She's falling. Down. Is she breathing? It's not supposed to be this way. _Why?_ Why did she do that?" 

Bull placed his hand heavily on Cole's shoulders. "Come on, we need to set up camp," Bull said, nodding towards the balcony area. "We need to have a good fire going by the time the boss is awake."

Varric chuckled. "I'll get the tarpaulin, if you build the fire, Tiny." He handed the correspondence to Cole. "Kid, you can get this to the nearest scout, right?"

Looking at the message in his hand with her large eyes, Cole nodded. "Of course." He closed his hand around it, and stared at it for a moment.

"What is it, kid?" Varric asked with a raised eyebrow. 

Cole hesitated for a moment, tightening the roll of the correspondence around his fingers. "Don't yell at her when she wakes up, The Iron Bull," Cole said. He turned, fixing those big eyes on Bull. "The red cliffs still haunt her. She was only trying to protect you."

Grunting, Bull nodded towards the keep entrance. "Get going, Cole."

Cole stared at Bull for a moment before turning to leave. 

"Red cliffs, huh?" Varric sighed. Shaking his head, he started to unpack their camping supplies. 

With the boss out of commission, Bull would have to start a fire the old fashioned way— a tricky feat with the rain pouring down like it had been, but as long as he found some dry wood within the keep, he'd manage. The Highwaymen had littered the place with candles and torches to give light, but it would do nothing for helping them get warm. While Varric got started on the tarpaulin, Bull wandered through the halls of the keep. They had to have a table somewhere. And where there was a table, there was wood. 

It took some searching, but he finally stumbled across a small library with a wide wooden table in the center of the room. And it was bone dry. Making quick work of it with his axe, Bull cut the table surface into smaller, easy to carry pieces for firewood, while chopping the table legs into better size to be used as kindling. It wasn't much, but it would have to do for the time being. It took two trips to get the remains of the table down to where where Varric was setting up the tarpaulin. Bull took extra care to make sure the wood did not get wet. With the air being so moist, it would already be difficult to get a fire going without the boss' magical enhancements. He also brought down a few of the books to use as tinder. 

By the time Bull was finished, Varric was tying the last knots of the tarpaulin. He watched what Bull was doing with a weary eye. "What are you going to do with those?"

"What do you think?" Bull replied as he tore a few pages from one of the books. "I'm starting a fire."

As Bull tore another bundle of pages, Varric winced. "It hurts this poor author's soul to see books ruined like that."

Rolling the paper into a tube, he tied the paper in a tight knot. "You'd rather freeze?" Bull raised his eyebrow.

"Didn't say it wasn't necessary. Just that it makes me sad to see it."

Before long, Bull had the set up for the fire ready to light. Cole returned to the keep just as the firewood finally started to burn strong enough for Bull to be satisfied the fire would thrive on it's own. "Scout Harding wants us to stay here, but knows that we won't," Cole announced. "She will be informing Sister Leliana about sending resources for the keep as soon as she can, and would like for us to be more observant with the Inquisitor." 

Cole walked silently around the fire, looking intently at Bull. After a moment, he sat on the floor beside the bench Lavellan was sleeping on. 

With a great heave, Bull pushed himself standing. "Thanks, Cole. I doubt she was that polite, but thanks," he said, shaking his head. "Can't wait to get back and face Red's wrath, that's for sure."

"She's probably planning to hang us by our toes when we get back to Skyhold, or worse," Varric grumbled as propped up the first tent. 

"I'm betting on evisceration," Bull said, stretching his back.

" _Nah_. Nightingale's always favored dramatics when it came to punishments. She'll want to make an example of us." 

"And you don't think evisceration is dramatic?"

"Tiny, you going to help me with these tents or not?" 

"Yeah, yeah," Bull said with a loud sigh. He emptied the next tent pack onto the ground and started working on getting it propped up. Every once in a while, he would look over to check on the boss and Cole. Still no movement from the boss, while Cole silently sat there, watching the ground. "Your creepy spirit thing give you any insight to when she's going to wake up?" Bull called out to Cole. He shot an expectant glance over to the spirit boy. "It's been at least an hour and she still hasn't—"

Cole's eyes snapped open as he held up a hand for silence. He turned his head towards Lavellan. "It's fine," he said in a comforting voice. "Everyone is fine. You did all you could. You always do." 

Lavellan let out a quiet moan. 

Bull's hold on the knot he was making slipped. "Boss," he said quietly. Standing up, Bull let the tent he was setting up fall to the wayside, while Varric let out a string of curses beside him. "Boss," Bull repeated, his feet carrying him over to the bench before he realized what he was doing. 

Slowly coming out of it, Lavellan stretched her arms as she blinked several times. "Hmm?" she said sleepily, trying to focus her vision the figure in front of her. 

Bull settled himself at her side. It felt as if his heart was trying to jump out of his throat. He could feel the pulses of relief and anger running through his veins. His Ben-Hassrath training kicked in, calming his voice and his expression before any uncertainty he was feeling showed. 

She needed Bull to be calm. 

And so did he. 

"Welcome back. How did _that_ work out for you, boss?"

Groaning, Lavellan closed her eyes and turned her head away. 

Snorting, Bull shook his head. "I promised Cole I wouldn't yell at you when you woke up."

"You did," Cole confirmed, putting a protective arm around Lavellan. 

"And I won't," Bull added with a huff. "But in a few hours I might." Bull bent down and picked up Lavellan's pack and handed it to Cole. "Make sure she gets out of those wet clothes and gets dry. I'm going to help Varric finish setting up the tents."

 

\---

 

When Lavellan and Cole returned to where they had made their makeshift camp, Bull had already started a stew from some game they had killed earlier in the day, and Varric was huddled close to the fire, jotting notes. She planted herself next to Varric, who politely asked after her well being and after reassuring him she was fine, the group fell into an uneasy quiet. Varric attempted to lighten the atmosphere with a story about Hawke and some spiders, but it was obvious that even he wasn't really in the mood. They were all exhausted from the fight, and just needed to rest.

After dinner, Bull offered to take first watch so the other three could get some sleep. The boss' stare bore into Bull's shoulder as Cole walked by her to make his way to his own tent. "I'll take second watch then," Lavellan offered. 

Raising an eyebrow at her, Bull nodded. "Okay," he replied. He had no intention of waking her up for it, but he wasn't about to tell _her_ that. Varric gave Bull a doubtful look. When Bull winked at him— or attempted a wink, because yeah it was hard to wink with one eye— the dwarf shrugged and then went into his tent. 

Lavellan made her way over to her tent, hesitating at the entrance for a moment. "Thank you for saving me, Iron Bull," she said quietly. She wasn't looking at him, but instead at the flap of her tent. 

"It's my job, Boss," Bull said, shrugging. "I told you I would watch your back."

She glanced over her shoulder for a moment, and then turned back. "You did."

"Good night, boss."

"Good night, Iron Bull."

As the camp grew quiet, Bull took the opportunity to work on the next report to send to the Ben-Hassrath. He wrote of the glowing lake and how incredibly unnerving it was to see so many undead roaming freely because of the large rift. He couldn't help but wonder if this was going to be the first of many large rifts with messed up shit effecting the entire area surrounding it. If so, going further and further out into Thedas was going to be fun. As fun as being trapped in a sack of rabid nugs.

After Varric's snores were a quiet constant in the camp, there was rustling from the boss' tent. Bull turned to see her head peeking out, her eyes wide awake and eying him suspiciously. Bull should have known better that she wouldn't fall for his ruse. "Is it my turn to take watch yet?" she asked.

Bull snorted. "Can't tell. The clouds are covering up the moon, so I'm not really sure, boss," he said, feigning innocence. "Go back to sleep, I'll wake you up when I get tired."

"No, it's fine," she said as she walked out of her tent. "I can't sleep anyway." Settling in a spot a few feet away from Bull, she sat herself in front of the fire, and reached out to it. The flames surged for a moment and Bull could feel the hair on his arms stand up from her spell. 

"Don't—" Bull started, but let the anger coursing through him settle down before he spoke again. "Your magic is still recovering," he said in a much calmer voice.

"I should've helped you with it earlier," Lavellan said quietly, her eyes downcast.

"You were kind of unconscious," he said. "Besides, the table volunteered to help. Did a good job too."

One of the pieces of wood in the fire snapped, the loud sound echoing in the silence between them.

"Are you going to yell at me now?"

Bull pushed his right hand against his face. "I'm thinking about it," he said gruffly. He was trying not to dwell on the flash of panic that had seized him when she hit the ground. How light and helpless she was in his arms. None of that. Because if he did, there were things about himself that he wasn't ready to face. So he cleared his throat, and adjusted his neck. In his best even voice, he replied, "What possessed you to try and go after the Chief by yourself like that?"

The boss' eyes narrowed. With a huff, she crossed her arms against her chest. "I was trying to protect you."

Scoffing, Bull shook his head. "You _do_ know how this whole bodyguard thing works, right? _I_ protect _you_ , not the other way around. You are far more important than some random hired muscle when it comes down to it."

"You're not just some random hired—"

"You know what I mean," he said, glaring at her. "And you _have to know_ how incredibly stupid it was for you to do something like that. What if he killed you right then and there? Where would the Inquisition be? How would we close the rifts? Do you understand what I'm saying here, boss?"

Her head hung low, she nodded shallowly. "Yes," she breathed. Lavellan's upper-body collapsed against her knees. She wrapped her arms tightly around her legs, opting to stare at the fire instead of Bull. "All I saw was that maul heading towards you, and saw Redcliffe happening all over again. And I couldn't—"

"The kid mentioned something about red cliffs. Figured it had something to do with it." With a sigh, Bull shook his head. "I wasn't going to say anything to you boss, but ever since—"

"You died in Redcliffe," she said softly, clearly still afraid to even say it out loud.

Bull blinked for a moment before he fell back into his Ben-Hassrath training to hold back his surprise. That was unexpected and not at all how he saw the fight was going to go. He could tell she had more to say, but was gathering her thoughts, so he remained silent. 

"You and Varric," she continued, tapping her forehead against her knees. "You sacrificed yourselves to buy Dorian time so he could complete his time spell. So we could come back to our time and fix things. You held off an army of demons to save us, on a chance that we could stop Corypheus. When the army broke down the last barrier, I saw your corpses. Lying there. Then Leliana— I watched as they tore her apart..."

He was actually pretty proud of his future self for being able to keep it together against a _demon army_. "Well _yeah_ ," Bull nodded. "If it meant giving the world a second chance, of course I would do that. I would do that for you right now if I had to." And he would, Bull realized as soon as the words left his mouth. It wasn't bullshit. He would stop at anything to make sure she had a fighting chance to stop Corypheus. And if that meant sacrificing himself to an army of demons? Well, he could think of worse ways to go. Not many, but there were worse. "Shit, I almost did today."

"I know," Lavellan said, breaking Bull away from his thoughts.

"And _I know_ Varric and Leliana would say the same."

"That's the problem! I don't want _anyone_ sacrificing themselves for me. I mean, who am I? I'm only important because I have this blasted mark. I'm nothing special."

"People are not following you just because your hand glows, boss. It's more than that, and you know it."

"It's bad enough that the Inquisition soldiers evoke my name before they charge into battle. All those soldiers, believing in me... All those people at Haven..." Hugging her knees together, she hid her face from him. "I mean, you saw those people in Crestwood earlier."

"You _saved_ those people in Crestwood, boss. How could they not be grateful to you?"

" _We_ helped them." Bull could hear the tears in her voice, and was incredibly thankful that her face was hidden by her knees. He wasn't sure he could take the sight of her tears in that moment and trust himself not to do something incredibly stupid. "They only see me. See all the good deeds the Inquisition as only my actions."

"You can't control it all," Bull replied, shrugging. "We choose to follow you, to protect you, because we want to. Not because we have to."

"Sometimes," she said, her voice muffled into her leggings, but Bull could hear her trying to hold back sobs. "It's all too much."

Bull moved closer to her. He winced as his metal brace scraped loudly against the stone floor, hoping that the sound didn't wake Cole and Varric. The last thing she needed was for those two to see her in the state she was in.

Slowly, he reached out his hand and lightly pressed his hand against her back— letting her decide if his touch was okay or not. "Boss," he said softly. "How long has it been this bad?" When she didn't move away from him, he started to circle his hand around her back comfortingly, but still using a light touch. It was all about making her comfortable, letting her get it out. 

It was so much worse than Bull had thought. She was keeping all of it bottled up— it was amazing that she had been able to fill her capacity as Herald for as long as she had. 

Shaking her head ruefully, the boss ignored his question. "It was... very brave and selfless of you. And Varric. And Leliana. But it's been hard for me to recover from seeing that... that's all."

"Boss—"

" _I'm sorry_ — if I've been acting strange, or avoiding you. Like that day in the garden. It wasn't you. It's all me. It's always been me."

" _Boss_ ," Bull said more firmly, his hand pausing on the center of her back. Lavellan looked up from her knees, her eyes shining with tears. 

Bull felt his stomach drop. 

_So much_ worse.

Her tight shoulders made it clear she was ashamed to let him see her like this. After all— while he could say all the reassurances he wanted, he was still a spy for the Qunari. But this is not the kind of shit that he would put in a report. Not unless it was endangering Thedas. The guilt she was clearly feeling was actually a relief. If she understood the sacrifices her people were making for her, then she understood the stakes— wouldn't risk lives indiscriminately. 

Except maybe her own to protect them— which was the problem. 

"I understand how you feel, but you can't risk yourself like that again, okay?" he said, moving himself close enough so their sides touched. Bull wrapped his arm around her gently, making sure she would be able to pull away if she needed. Her chest heaved as a round of sobs came out of her. "I can take a hit, I promise," he said gently. Then, after a beat, he added, "You, as we established today, are squishy and lack peripheral vision." 

She let out a half laugh, half sob. "A guy carrying a maul bigger than my head almost sneaked up on you," she said, still torn between laughing and crying. "Who has terrible peripheral vision?" 

Something pulled at Bull's chest. He pushed the gnawing feeling down. _Deep_ down. A Ben-Hassrath was taught to control every emotion, to control the moment. He would not be undone by the sound of her voice, as pathetic as it sounded. 

"I'm aware of everything in battle," Bull corrected, a smirk playing on his lips. "Ben-Hassrath, remember? I can read what everyone is thinking before they even think it."

Lavellan shook her head. The sobs had stopped, and there were still tears on her face, but it seemed the storm had passed. After a beat of silence, a small smile played on her lips. "And this?" she said, poking the side of his stomach. "You're pretty squishy too, Iron Bull."

"Ouch, boss. That's hurtful," he said in mock offense. "Maybe then we should keep an eye out for each other then, how about that? I'll watch your back if you watch mine. How's that sound?"

With a small smile, she nodded. "Alright."

"Good." He beamed at her, which only made her laugh again. "Because I don't want to have to carry you after a battle again. And I know you can't carry me, so let's not even try that."

Lavellan covered her face, laughing into her hands. 

"But boss," he added, his tone turning serious. "Promise me that you'll not it let it get that bad again. You need to find someone to talk to. Whether it's Dorian or—"

"You?" she said quietly. Her wide eyes were staring at him, the light of the fire reflecting off them. 

Bull nodded. "You know you can talk to me anytime. Spies are great listeners," he said without thinking. He winced for a moment, kicking himself for telling her something like that when all she really needed at that moment was reassurance and comfort. 

But she seemed unfazed by it, amused even, because she smiled at him then. She wiped the tracks of tears from her face. "Thank you, Iron Bull."

"Sure boss." Bull quickly focused on the fire, not wanting to see the trusting expression on her face. 

This was not what he had planned. She had given him her trust, but damn it tasted bitter in his mouth.

 

5.

They didn't linger in Caer Bronach for long. The next morning, Liadan had fully recovered, and insisted they push forward to drain the lake. The sooner the rift was closed, the sooner the people of Crestwood would hopefully be lifted from the living nightmare that their lives had become. 

Although Liadan wasn't sure which was worse— the throngs of undead, or the sight of the dilapidated Old Crestwood being revealed from it's decade old watery grave. There were corpses littered everywhere, along with spirits who had come over through the thin parts of the Veil— and all Liadan wanted to do was run back to the Free Marshes and pretend it was all a dream. She had not come to uncover the sins of the past Blight. She was only trying to prevent Corypheus from starting another one. 

But neither could she let the spirits roam endlessly tormenting the village of Crestwood. She had to help them finally be at peace.

As they entered Old Crestwood, Varric took point as they searched the area to find the source of the rift. 

Liadan looked over her shoulder to where Iron Bull and Cole were trailing behind her. Iron Bull looked uneasy. Uneasy as his future self as they did as they roamed the dungeons of Redcliffe. _The spirits_ , she realized. It wasn't often that one saw so many spirits wandering about so brazenly. Most of the spirits had no interest in their presence. One wraith floated right through her, leaving her with a small chill, but nothing more. 

"You can't cut them out if they get into your head," Cole said quietly, standing on Iron Bull's left flank. "But I'll make sure they leave you alone. And so will she. Light shining, beaming like a beacon in the darkness."

"Private thoughts," Iron Bull said through clenched teeth. He tightened his grip on his axe. "We talked about this."

Cole hid his head under the brim of his hat. "You were feeling alone. But you aren't alone. We're here."

Liadan raised an eyebrow, and turned towards the two of them. "Everything all right?" she said, pretending to not have heard their exchange. 

"Fine, boss," Iron Bull said with another grumble. As one of the wraiths floated towards him, Iron Bull jumped out of the way just to make sure it did not touch him in any way. "Let's just get this over with." 

"Snowflake!" Varric called from a few yards away. "I think I found an entrance!"

And so they went down the endless rickety wooden stairs leading them down further beneath the water. Down further still, where they found Dwarven ruins and more wraiths. 

Until, finally they found the rift. 

As the first wave of demons appeared, Liadan nodded to Iron Bull and said, "I'll watch your back, you watch mine— right?"

"Right." The Iron Bull smirked at her as he readied his axe for attack. "Just remember, I'm not carrying you out of here."

 

\---

 

The sunlight hitting her face was jarring. Liadan instantly threw her arm up to shade her eyes from the bright light. Only to then realize that the rain had stopped, and what seemed to be like an eternal night finally ended. She took a few fumbling steps forward, finally feeling how much fighting four rounds of demons had exhausted her. Then she saw sight of the dilapidated Old Crestwood exposed to the stark sun.

That was when the stench of death hit her nose hard. "It's..." she breathed. 

Varric chuckled as he climbed out of the cave behind her "I'm starting to understand why some dwarves are blinded the first time they get to the surface. Didn't think we'd ever see the sun again." He looked over the old town and sighed. "Although it makes the sight of this place so much worse."

Cole was the last one to exit the cave. His head turned toward the Mayor's old house. He walked a few paces towards it, wringing his hands. "The mayor dreams about this place. Shock and shame and hurt. I don't know why."

Iron Bull raised an eyebrow at the spirit boy as he walked towards the husk of the nearest house. "I think I have a hunch why," he said with a snort of disgust. He kicked one of the broken wooden boards on the ground. "We need to talk to him. But before we do that—"

"The bodies," Liadan sighed. "Come on. It's the least we can do for them."

Staring at something in the debris, Iron Bull shook his head. "We'd get more ground covered if we split into groups," he suggested. "Closing up that rift is going to attract the attention of the Red Templars. We can't stay here forever."

Liadan nodded in agreement. "Good idea. Iron Bull, you're with me," she said as she quickly walked passed him.

"Yeah, sure," Iron Bull said. She could hear the shifting of his armor as he jogged to catch up with her pace.

She glanced over her shoulder to see the Qunari a few steps behind her, looking expectantly. While he could read her like an open book, he usually kept his thoughts to himself and knew when to be quiet. As much as Varric's tendency to make light of every situation, she wasn't in the mood for his jokes. And Cole would vocalize her every thought, trying to comfort her. But walking through the ruins of Old Crestwood, the thoughts in her own head were loud enough. 

She was so tired. Crestwood had wiped her out completely, both physically and emotionally. She was only starting as her role of Inquisitor. If every mission was going to be like Crestwood...

She didn't want to think about it.

Before Haven, before the Breach, before the Conclave even— she was the First of the Lavellan clan. A role she took hesitantly, and fought against until the day of her confirmation as the clan's First. She remembered what her Keeper had told her then. About how she needed to protect her people, protect their way of life. That it was important for her to pass on all of the knowledge she was giving to her so the clan could thrive. And still, she tried to reject the gift she was being given. She didn't want to lead. Her Keeper told her that was why she was chosen.

Liadan never considered being made First a gift. It was an obligation to her Clan, a mark signifying that her life would forever be different than the others. 

Much like the mark on her hand left after the Conclave. 

And now she was facing it all over again. It took time for her to finally accept her role as a First— what it would mean for the future when she would inevitably become Keeper. But that was no longer her fate. The role of Inquisitor was so much bigger. All of Thedas was at stake, and they all looked to her. 

And if she failed... she had already seen that dark future. And now, with the husk of Old Crestwood before her, she saw the reality of what that would mean for the people of Thedas.

Iron Bull gave her a worried glance. "Come on," he said quietly, nodding towards the house nearest to them.

She and Iron Bull searched three houses for remains before she saw the lake. 

Reaching the end of a stone foundation, Liadan stopped and stared at the sight of the lakeshore before her. With the sunshine peaking through the remnants of the storm clouds, the clear water was beautiful. Peaceful. Like nothing tragic had ever happened there. The dock, having been submerged a decade, was broken down, allowing a sheen sheet of water to run over it in places. Liadan jumped off the foundation and let her feet carry her to the docks. Her eyes were mesmerized by the flowing of water in front of her. She took a deep breath as the cool breeze coming off the lake blew through her hair.

"The Qunari have a saying," Iron Bull said from behind her. She jumped at the sound of his voice. She didn't realize that he had followed her all the way to the waterfront. "Things are at their most beautiful after a storm," he continued.

The silent spell of the water broken, Liadan glanced over her shoulder, blinking at Iron Bull. "Sorry—"

Iron Bull shook his head. "No need to apologize. This hasn't been easy for any of us." He took a step towards her, almost reaching her right flank. "A lot of little villages are like Crestwood, trying to keep going with demons everywhere... The Breach messed up a lot of things."

Turning her attention back to the water before her, she sighed heavily. "I know. And we're going to fix them." Her head snapped towards Iron Bull again, her cheeks a little pink. "The Inquisition, I mean. Not, you and me specifically. I mean, you're more than welcome to come with me whenever—" She covered her face with her hands, letting out a groan. "Ulgh, just ignore all of that. I tend to babble when I'm tired after fighting scores of demons apparently."

Iron Bull let out a soft chuckle. "Good to know."

Taking in a deep breath, Liadan turned back to the lake in an attempt to try to swallow her embarrassment. After a few beats of silence between them, she said, "You're right, though. Now that the storm is over, the water is very beautiful."

"I wasn't talking about the water, boss."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which the chapters exponentially get larger. I'm sorry this chapter is so long and also sorry it took so long to be posted. Between finals, and basically rewriting this chapter three times, it's taken a little while. I'm still not completely happy with it, but I can't keep playing with it. So here you go! The UST. It builds.

1.

The early morning sun's light shone over all of Skyhold. Bull leaned against the the upper courtyard's stone fence as he watched the area below. The morning scouts and staff were starting on their rounds, while the late shift people were sleepily making their way to bed. A chilly breeze brushed against his skin. Fall would be over soon, and Bull didn't even want to think about how cold it would get once Winter had truly begun.

A loud horn blast broke the quiet. The signal to have the gates of Skyhold opened. It had to be Leliana's scouts. No one else would risk traveling up treacherous snow-covered mountains surrounding Skyhold in the dark unless they had a damn good reason. Leliana's scouts were dedicated to the point of a bit fanatical when it came to pleasing their beloved Sister Nightingale. 

A handful of scouts came through the gates along with two of Cullen's men, a prisoner led between them. As they rode close to where Bull was standing, he saw that the prisoner was none other than than the Crestwood mayor.

"Well, that didn't take long," Bull muttered to himself. Lavellan had only told him the day before that they were going to start the search. 

Leliana approached the group, the usual grim look on her face. When they had returned from Crestwood, Leliana was less than pleased with the reports that Scout Harding had sent about the Inquisitor's collapse. Her reaction wasn't as drastic as _evisceration_ — only a long lecture filled with veiled ( _and not so veiled_ ) threats that turned Varric's face various shades of green. Bull did not put it past Leliana to be able to plan a long game of exacting punishment upon those who riled her anger. Thankfully, he and Varric were needed by the Inquisition. For the moment at least. 

From the lower courtyard, Leliana caught Bull's eye with a wave. He let out a long breath, considering his options as he watched her walk up the staircase to the courtyard where he was standing. If he made a run for it, she'd only find him later— maybe make him sit through another threat session. 

Or he could just stay put and get it over with.

Leliana slid up next to Bull, copying his stance leaning her weight on her elbows. There was an amused smile on her face. That did not bode well for him. Raising an eyebrow at her, Bull asked quietly, "To what do I owe the pleasure, Red?"

"I only wanted to check in with you," she said, a flirting tone to her voice. The spymaster tilted her head back deliberately so her red hair slipped out from her hood. Bull was fully aware she knew of his infatuation of redheads— and she only tried to take advantage of it when she wanted something. The _I-know-that-you-know-that-I-know_ play. It was a game only Orlesians took pleasure in. At least Vints had enough class to at least use a little centrifuge when wanting something from you. 

Bull feigned interest which was exactly what Leliana wanted him to do— but that was all he was going to give her. Nodding his head towards the castle, he said, "I was just about to grab some food. You're welcome to join me. We can chat on the way."

A wide smile crept onto Leliana's face. "I'd be delighted," she said, offering her arm. 

Bull stared, knowing full well it had to be some kind of trap. Leliana was not gracious and kind. She was a secret manipulator from the shadows. Not wanting to give her the satisfaction of jarring him, Bull looped his arm around hers. She giggled coquettishly— which was terrifying in of itself— as they started to walk towards the main entrance.

She nodded to one of the scouts— whose mouth was openly gaping at them as they passed. "I must say, I'm impressed in your recent change of habits, Iron Bull. Back in Haven, you wouldn't be awake for several hours. Yet here you are. Did the Inquisitor get you on her early morning routine in Crestwood?" 

Since they returned, Bull's schedule purposely matched with the Inquisitor's. When the Inquisitor would break fast in the mornings, so would he. He didn't necessarily sit near her in the dinning hall, but he would always make sure she would be able to see him. Bull always left it up to her whether she would join him. She chose to sit next to him, engage in conversation with him. While she met with her advisors for their morning meeting, Bull would catch up with Krem and the Chargers. At lunch, again he would be in the dinning hall, waiting. When she had lessons with Madame Viviene, he would take the Chargers out to train. Sometimes their training would overlap in the courtyard, sometimes it didn't. 

Leliana gave Bull a soft pat on the arm. "I never took you as a stalker type."

Bull frowned. "I'm not stalking. Who said I was stalking? I'm supposed to keeping an eye on the boss. I'm her bodyguard. It's kind of my job."

"It's called _stalking_ ," Leliana said, the smug grin still on her face. "And while it's adorable to watch, I'm not sure how watching from a distance is going to achieve our goal of helping the Inquisitor become a better leader."

Pulling away from her arm, Bull stopped walking and crossed his arms against his chest. They were halfway up the stairs to the entrance, and his bulk made it very difficult for the morning staff to get by. A pair of guards moved single file passed them, their eyes narrowed in annoyance at him. Bull really didn't care. 

"Remind me who's doing the stalking?" Bull said, glaring at Leliana. "Because it sounds like you've been doing quite a bit of your own." 

"It's my job to keep my eyes on everything, including what happens in Skyhold," she said with a raised eyebrow. "What is _your_ reasoning?" 

"It's a Ben-Hassrath technique. You wouldn't understand," Bull said with a shrug. "It's complicated."

Tilting her head to the side, Leliana pursed her lips together.

He gave her a defiant look. It wasn't her place to question his methods anyway. _She_ came to _him_ for help. On the way back from Crestwood, Bull realized that Lavellan had to have told Leliana all of the details of what had happened in Redcliffe, as the spymaster would accept no less given the circumstances, so she already knew about what was haunting Lavellan. It would have been nice if Leliana had given him a little head's up that the boss was having nightmares about seeing his corpse. But she didn't, so if she wasn't going to share, neither was he.

Leliana met his stare with narrowed eyes. "Fine, play it how you will," she said with a shrug. "I am more than aware of the wager between you and Solas. I just wanted to make sure, you weren't losing sight on _why_ I asked for your assistance."

"I'm helping the boss," Bull said firmly.

"With no _other_ intentions?"

"None."

Leliana looked less then convinced. Bull wasn't even sure himself anymore either. But it was impossible for him to deny that something had shifted between he and Lavellan. He just wasn't sure what. He genuinely looked forward to seeing her everyday— to spend time with her. It was different from anything he had experienced before. He had friends, obviously, but when he spent time with Lavellan, it was different from when he hung out with Krem.

Leliana offered her arm. When Bull made no movement, she nodded towards the entrance hall. "I'm quite certain the Herald has awoken. We can continue to discuss this out here, if you like. Or we can join her in the dining hall."

Grumbling, Bull took her arm once more and the two continued to make their way up the stairs. "What about the Crestwood mayor?" Bull asked. 

"He's in custody," Leliana said, waving it off. "And he'll stay there. He surrendered to us."

"But you aren't going to tell her?"

Leliana shook her head. "It's not important right now. Josie wants her to focus on the desRosier party tomorrow."

He didn't disagree. The party was perfect for getting practice for the Winter Palace. However, Lavellan needed closure. "She would want to know. Crestwood really shook her up."

"No doubt. To have to see first hand the difficult decisions a leader has to make, and the consequences they sometimes mean."

" _Consequences?_ " Bull seethed. "Innocent people died out there. All because that coward was afraid of dying."

She smiled at him, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Can you honestly tell me he didn't take the same course of action that the Qunari would have?"

"The Qunari would never have to make a choice like that," Bull said, half growling. "Any of the infected Qunari would make sure to not infect others and would allow to be killed for the greater good of everyone."

"Well," she said, frowning. "Unfortunately, humans are more flawed then the Qunari, apparently. While we say the choice would be easy and that we would be noble— in reality, it's more complicated than that, like most things." She looked up at Bull, her eyes shining. "I think you can understand that?"

He let out a grunt. "Yeah."

"Then you can understand my concerns and why I'm waiting until after the upcoming visit to bring it to her attention. She'll be driven to distraction, and I cannot stress how important it is for her to make a good impression on Lord desRosier right now." 

"Word has it the lady he's coming with is trying to act as a matchmaker. Is that why she needs to make a good impression?" 

Bull wasn't so naive to not understand why suitors kept appearing at Skyhold. He'd spent more than enough time in Orlais to understand one of their strongest currencies was arranging a beneficial marriage. And since the title of Inquisitor was extremely lucrative, it seemed some nobles were even willing to overlook the small detail of Lavellan being an elf from the Free Marshes.

Leliana gave Bull a knowing look.

"She's going to turn him down and it's going to be hilarious."

Nodding, Leliana looked to Bull's face and sighed. "While it's true she hasn't had much success in turning down noble suitors gently, one has to wonder..." She glanced at Bull. "Something you want to tell me, Iron Bull?"

"What?" Bull blinked.

"About you and the Inquisitor."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Of course you don't." Leliana rolled her eyes as she let out an exasperated sigh. "Well, however she decides, we still need desRosier's support. The Inquisition needs her full focus on tomorrow's party for the good of us all."

They walked through the tall entrance into the receiving hall. Several nobles were already up and about. A few of them gave small nods to Leliana as they walked by, before giving Bull a once over. Some looked intrigued, while others outright indignant that he dared to walk arm in arm with the Left Hand of the Divine. Shaking his head, Bull pulled his arm away— or at least tried to. Leliana held it fast, looking up at him with a small smile. 

"Are you trying to make things better or worse for me right now?" Bull said, frowning.

Letting out a soft hum, Leliana smirked at him. "I'm testing a theory."

"What theory?" He raised an eyebrow at her. 

Her face flushing in embarrassment, Leliana let out a quiet giggle as she quickly looked away from him. Bull wasn't falling for it in the slightest. The dreaded spymaster was a lot of things, but coquettish and shy was not one of them. "You—" 

"Leliana?" 

Bull's head snapped in the direction where the third voice had come from. There was Lavellan, standing right behind him, for all purposes still looking half asleep. In Crestwood Bull learned that Lavellan's hair was an unruly thing, and something she didn't tackle until after she had food and a strong cup of tea. While she was dressed for the day, the long parts of her hair were haplessly thrown up in a messy ponytail— the short streaks and braids still hanging in her face. Bull could see that she still red marks from where her sheets pressed up against her skin. Bull felt a flutter in his stomach that had very little to do with being hungry and very much to do with seeing her look as vulnerable as she did right at that moment. He stepped forward, but Leliana's arm stopped him from getting very far.

Lavellan's eyes narrowed slightly when she noticed that their arms were interlocked. A hurt expression flickered across her face, but quickly went back to a neutral expression. Looking Bull in the eye, Lavellan nodded— the action clearly strained. "Good morning, Iron Bull," she said before walking passed the two on her way to the dining hall. Anyone else who had seen the interaction would have thought nothing of it— just the Inquisitor giving out her usual morning greetings. But Bull had become a practiced enough reader of the many expressions of Lavellan to know that whatever had just happened was _not good_. 

" _That_ theory," Leliana said, keeping her voice quiet enough for only Bull to hear. 

Glaring at Leliana, Bull quickly pulled his arm out of the her grip. He opened his mouth, but closed it as she nodded towards where Lavellan had gone.

"It seems it _is_ a complicated technique," Leliana said, smiling at him.

Bull hesitated for a moment before going after Lavellan. "Boss, wait up— I'll join you."

She stopped in her steps. Hesitating for a moment, she turned on her heel, facing the entrance. "Actually, I'm not very hungry. And Cullen mentioned he wanted to speak to me before Josephine's lessons, so perhaps I should—" She took a few steps forward.

" _Boss_." 

At the sound of his voice, she stopped moving, looking furious at herself for doing so. 

"You all right?" 

"Fine," she said quietly.

"Okay..." He said carefully. "You should still grab something to eat. Come on—"

She stepped away from him. "No, I'm fine. Really."

Frowning, Bull leaned his head slightly to the right. She wasn't looking him in the eye again— finding the floor much more interesting. Damn, he really thought they had gotten past this. She was pulling away from him again. And all over Leliana holding his arm? Really? Lavellan had seen him in much more compromising positions. And heard of even worse, knowing Krem. "Don't you have lessons with Vivienne later? You need to eat so you'll have strength for that."

She glared at him. "I am perfectly capable of looking out for myself, Iron Bull."

"I know you are. I just... you know... it's my job to look out for your well being." And the last thing he wanted was to have to carry her lifeless body anywhere ever again. He still wasn't sure if he was completely over watching her fall to the ground like a rock, but it was something he was trying not to dwell on. Clearing his throat, he took a step closer to her. "You've been working hard ever since we got back from Crestwood, getting ready for this party."

"I wouldn't want to impose," she said, still not looking at him. She started to talk towards the entrance. 

Bull moved to block her way. "What? _That_?" He gestured to where Leliana had been standing. Of course she was gone and couldn't help him out of whatever this was. This whole thing was her fault anyway. She should explain her little "test". _Fucking spies._ "No. _Noooo_ ," Bull said emphatically. He let out a nervous laugh before clearing his throat. "That was not—"

Closing her eyes, she put up a hand to stop Bull from saying the reply that was on his lips. Bitting nervously at the scar on the side of her mouth, she cleared her throat. "Bull, it's fine. It's none of my business anyway," she added quietly. 

"Boss—"

"Lord desRosier will be here tomorrow," she interrupted, clearly wanting to change the subject. "And everyone is a little... _tense_... right now. You know how it is..." She gave a half-hearted shrug.

Nodding, Bull took a step backwards. "Yeah. Sure, boss," he said slowly. "I'll uh— see you later then." It was more a question than the statement he intended, and damn Bull hated how unsure his voice sounded. "For support. If that's okay?" he added quickly. 

Lavellan looked down to her feet. "Only if you want. It's boring to practice, so I can only imagine how boring it is to watch."

"Not boring," Bull said, shaking his head. "Not at all." After a moment, his lips curled into a wry grin. "Watching two ladies dance just for me? What's not to love?" 

"And now _I'm leaving_." Rolling her eyes, Lavellan shook her head and walked away. "See you later, Iron Bull." 

Bull leaned to the side a little, watching as she disappeared into the dinning hall. "See ya," he said softly.

Behind him, he heard a pair of chuckles. Bull turned around to see Varric and Hawke— the latter leaning on the dwarf for support as she struggled not to burst into a loud fit of giggles. Leliana, of course, had already made a break for it. He'd have to make sure to thank her later for almost undoing all of his work.

"Smooth," Varric said. The dwarf managed to keep a straight face for only a moment before snickering again. "Andraste's tits, Tiny! That was the saddest thing I've seen in a _while_. I thought you were supposed to be good at this seduction thing?"

Bull scoffed. "I'm not—"

"Well, we could _see_ that, Tiny. Haven't seen anyone crash that hard in a while."

Bull let out a long exhale through his nose, but kept silent. He knew better than to try to stop Varric when the dwarf was in a teasing mood. The more Bull protested, the more intense it would be. 

"I've seen worse," Hawke said, shrugging as she struggled to stop laughing. In the little time that Bull had spent with Hawke, he saw that the Champion's presence only encouraged Varric, and not in a good way. The two were attracting more than a little attention from the nobles standing around. "Not much, but I have."

Snorting, Varric shook his head. "You _live_ worse, Hawke," he corrected. "Or has the elf finally managed to figure out that the way to a girl's heart is to _not_ rip it out of her chest?"

"You have a point there," she said, sounding a little too proud about it. Stifling further giggles, Hawke smiled at Bull. "It seems to me that the Inquisitor gets easily flustered when it comes to you, my friend. Perhaps ease up a little?"

Bull didn't understand the appeal of Hawke. Since arriving at Skyhold, everyone had been tripping over themselves to meet her, but she just seemed to be an average human. A bit on the snarky side, but that was it. Of course, he was not as blown away by her feats at Kirkwall. Especially since from how the Qunari heard it, most of her "feats" were just circumstances of coincidence and blind luck. Varric was as good a story spinner as the best Hissrad. Bull still wasn't convinced that the tiny mage had singlehandedly taken out the Arishok— badass or no.

At least the Warden that had come with Hawke had the good sense to mind his own fucking business.

Raising an eyebrow, Bull gave the Champion a disapproving frown. He was glad that his fumbling for footing in whatever was happening between he and Lavellan was at least a form of entertainment for someone. Because _he_ sure wasn't amused by the undertaking.

"I'll keep that in mind," Bull said, voice completely dry. Grumbling, he pushed past them and walked through Solas' office. 

Unsurprisingly, the elf was sitting at his desk, nose deep in a thick book. He looked up from his reading and gave Bull an acknowledging nod. "Good morning, Iron Bull. And what a pleasant mood you seem to be in at the moment this morning."

Bull glared. "Seriously, not in the mood right now, Solas."

"I can see that. Very clearly." 

"Did Red get everyone in on this? It's like everyone woke up with the sole goal of fucking with me this morning."

"Interesting," Solas said as his eyebrows shot up. "Well, if there was, _I_ received no such invitation. Although, if I had to hazard a guess it has something to do with the Inquisitor, am I right?"

Shaking his head, Bull exhaled loudly. "You going to ride me about her too?"

"On the contrary," Solas said, a smile pulling on his lips. "You're doing an excellent job with her."

"You—" Bull's brow furrowed. "Okay, not what I was expecting. You _do_ remember we have a running bet on this?"

Solas moved back in his chair, making a show of straightening his posture. "I have not forgotten. I still have serious doubts about what will happen at the Winter Palace. But I cannot overlook some general improvement since she returned from Crestwood. It seems that the support that those of us who are concerned for her wellbeing were not going about it the right way. Observing you and her has been very... educational."

"Are you—" Bull's fists clenched at his sides. "What do you mean _those of us who are concerned for her wellbeing_?"

The elf's right eyebrow arched up. "Come now. You do not have to convince _me_. You and I know full well what the advantages are for you to gain approval from the Inquisitor. You are Ben-Hassrath. Why would you not take advantage of this enormous opportunity?"

So while Varric thought Bull was head over heels in love with Lavellan, Solas thought Bull didn't give a crap? Letting out a long, steadying breath, Bull tried to focus himself. After a moment, he asked calmly, "You think I don't care about her?"

Tilting his head slightly to the side, Solas scoffed. "I _know_ you don't. The wager between us is proof enough that you don't."

Bull's hands balled into fists. "That is not what's happening here. And the fact that you can't see what's actually happening, is why you're going to lose the bet."

Smirking, Solas shrugged. "We shall see."

"We will," Bull said with a nod. "Nice talking with you, Solas," he said as he made his way to the door that lead to the outside barracks.

Bull hoped that Krem was awake already, because he definitely needed a drink. 

Or several.

 

2.

Liadan's dreaded lessons only became longer and more intense since their return from Crestwood, now that Halamshiral's proverbial axe was hanging over them. With Lord desRosier's impending arrival, Josephine had scheduled Liadan's entire afternoon to be dedicated in review of dancing and social etiquette.

Otherwise known as pure torture for Liadan.

"Inquisitor," Josephine said, letting out a disapproving hum. She pressed her lips together in a small frown. Ever the diplomat, Josephine tried to sound as pleasant as she could when scolding her. "You are leading with the wrong foot. Again. You need to start with your left."

" _Creators_ ," Liadan fumed. She broke hold with Josephine and walked a few steps away, silently cursing whomever came up with the blasted Dance of Six Candles to the Void. Josephine had been drilling her on it ever since they got back from Crestwood, but she still couldn't seem to keep the steps straight. "Why does it have to be so complicated? The Dalish just dance where the music guides them. I don't see why Orlais can't as well! Why must even _dancing_ be severely structured?"

"And interesting debate, no doubt. However, I think you will find it hard to convince all of Orlais with your argument's merits in one night," Josephine said, smiling at her widely.

"Humoring me isn't helping, Josephine," Liadan said, glaring. 

"Remember, ' _lead with your left_.'" Josephine held out her hand for them to try again.

Letting out a loud sigh, Liadan slowly walked back over to Josephine, her shoulders hunched over. "Except when you lead with your right," she muttered quietly. 

On the other side of the room, Iron Bull chuckled from where he was watching. His laugh echoed throughout the empty hallway. 

Glancing towards the Qunari, Liadan gave him a small smile. Since Crestwood something had changed between her and Iron Bull. He still kept to himself, always staying a distance away, but staying visible at all times should she need him, making himself more available if she needed to talk to him. For her part, she was seeing the memory of his corpse less and less. Instead, she saw the look on his face that day by the lake in Old Crestwood and tried not to dwell on the fluttering feeling in her chest when he looked at her with such intensity. 

She knew the change in his demeanor had to be because of what she had told him about Redcliffe, although he would never admit to it. 

That first morning when they came back to Skyhold, he was sitting there waiting when she came to the dinning hall to break her fast. She asked what he was doing and his reply was _Just keeping an eye on things, boss_. The pun was not lost on her, much to his amusement. 

It was fine— even _comforting_ — until that morning. Liadan really wasn't sure what to make of Leliana hanging on Iron Bull's arm. She tried not to dwell on the fact that Iron Bull had an admitted predilection for redheads, and that her own hair was very much _not_ red.

Josephine's head snapped to the direction where Iron Bull was standing. "Don't encourage her, the Iron Bull," she said in a chiding tone. "Or would you like to join the lesson? It is just as important for you to know some of the basic waltzes for the Winter Palace." 

The Qunari let out a grunt, a perfect expression of how Liadan felt about her dance lessons. "Who says I don't?" 

Liadan threw her hands up in the air in frustration. "Of course! Because the bumbling knife-ear from the Free Marshes is the only one who doesn't have a working repertoire of Orlesian waltzes!"

Letting out an exasperated sigh, Josephine shook her head. "Give yourself some credit, Inquisitor. All things considered, you're doing quite well. In very little time you have become quite an adept. You've already mastered the basics that usually take children years to master." Josephine gave Liadan's hand a squeeze to signal that she was to begin the dance again. 

Making sure to lead with her left, Liadan stepped forward, slowly starting to go through the first steps of the dance. "Not sure if that's a compliment or not..." Liadan replied, narrowing her eyes at the ambassador. 

"Do not be silly, Inquisitor. You are well aware it is a compliment on your hard work. Keep this up, by the time the Winter Palace is upon us, you will be the belle of the ball."

"I don't want to be the _belle of the ball_ ," Liadan countered, frowning. "I just want to make sure that everyone gets out alive."

"Both go hand and hand, Inquisitor," Josephine said as Liadan spun her. "You'll find that being charming on the dance floor can get you very far in Orlais."

Liadan rolled her eyes as they moved through the next steps of the dance.

The sound of a door opening echoed through the empty hall. Liadan turned her head quickly to see who it was, hoping it was someone in dire need of pulling her away from further dance lessons. Preferably _forever_ , but she'd take just for the afternoon. 

It was Hawke, a smile on her face.

When Hawke returned with them from Crestwood, Liadan wasn't really sure what to make of the Champion. Varric had taken most of Hawke's attentions on the trip back, so they did not get the opportunity to speak much then— and since they had arrived at Skyhold, Josephine had made sure full priority was given to making Lord desRosier's visit a success. 

From what little time she did get to spend with her, Liadan had discovered that Hawke was quite more mischievous than Varric depicted her— which was saying something. Liadan was fully expecting Hawke and Sera to fill all of Skyhold's pillows with stinky cheeses or some other annoying prank any day. 

However, at that moment the vision of Hawke walking in was a blessing from the Creators. 

"Please tell me I'm needed somewhere else," Liadan said as she pulled away from Josephine. "Corypheus has struck or some other kind of terrible disaster that we are needed to address immediately." 

"Inquisitor!" Josephine scolded. The ambassador placed her hands on her hips. 

Hawke smiled as she gave an innocent shrug. "I'm afraid not. Thedas is safe for another day."

Liadan's shoulders slumped in defeat.

The Champion let out a laugh as she walked towards where Liadan and Josephine were practicing. "I heard a rumor there were dancing lessons taking place in here, and I just couldn't help myself." She looked around the empty hall, frowning. "Although I have to admit I am disappointed by your lack of audience." Smiling at Iron Bull, she added, "No offense, Iron Bull."

Iron Bull grunted.

Gesturing to the door she came in from, Hawke continued, "Perhaps I should grab the rest of your merry men? It's a proven fact that it's better practice if you learn how to dance with an audience watching every time you stumble like an idiot. I'm sure Cullen would be more than willing to lend a hand—"

Covering her face, Liadan groaned into her hands. "Please don't. It's bad enough as is."

"Oh, _thanks_ , boss," Iron Bull drolled teasingly. 

Placing her hand on Liadan's shoulder, Hawke sighed empathetically. "Now, now— I know dance lessons rank about as high as that ghastly Orlesian despair ham. Maker knows that I tried to avoid my own lessons like a nest of rabid nugs."

"Messere Hawke—" Josephine clearly wanted to get back to her lessons, but with Hawke being their most important guest at Skyhold, it wasn't something the ambassador could be direct about. Liadan held back a snicker as she watched the internal struggle play out of the ambassador's face.

"But sadly it's a necessary evil," Hawke said, ignoring Josephine. "Varric said you were having some trouble with the Dance of Six Candles?"

Running a hand through her hair, Liadan grumbled. "The line dance part of it is easy enough, but I can't make sense of the blasted opening step sequence."

"I know what you mean! It's awful! I spent my entire first Summer in Kirkwall learning it. Maybe I can show you some tricks on how to remember it? That is, if your teacher will allow me?" Hawke beamed at Josephine. 

The ambassador smiled in return, a slight blush on her cheeks. "Oh Messere Hawke! I'm sure the Inquisitor would be delighted!" She gave Liadan a push on the back, propelling her towards Hawke. "Wouldn't you?"

Luckily, Hawke caught Liadan before she crashed face first into the Champion's bosom. She felt her face heat up as she looked up to Hawke's face. "Well..." she said, biting down on the scar nervously. "If you're sure? I'm quite terrible at it."

With a warm laugh, Hawke steadied Liadan to stand in her starting position for the dance. "Please, Inquisitor. If I can teach it to Fenris, I can teach it to you. At least _you_ won't be trying to glare me to death while we practice. At least, I hope you won't." Hawke stepped to Liadan's left side, readying the first step of the dance. "I can lead if it makes it easier?"

"Creators, yes, _please_." Liadan looked over her shoulder to where Josephine was standing. The ambassador gave her a reassuring nod, taking a few steps back to observe.

The Champion gave Liadan a small smile. "All right. But in exchange, you have to say each step aloud while we do it. It always helped me memorize particularly tricky dance steps." Hawke held out her hand. 

Liadan gave a shallow nod. It would be embarrassing, but it couldn't be worse then tripping over herself repeatedly for the last hour. "All right." Placing her hand lightly on top of Hawke's, Liadan nervously looked up at Hawke's face. 

"Take it slow. Make sure your steps are correct." Hawke gave her an encouraging look. "Go on—"

Liadan looked down at her feet as Hawke walked her through the dance at a snail's pace. This time she made sure to lead with her left foot, and took each step hesitatingly to make sure she wouldn't be scolded for stepping with the wrong foot. "Step... step." The two stepped backwards. Hawke pulled their enjoined hands forward to clue Liadan in on where to step next. "Step... shuffle... Spin—" the two turned around, changing their positions, and glided down the hallway. "Step... step... _turn_." The two turned to face each other. Hawke gave her a wry smile as Liadan said the final step _curtsy_ and the two curtsied at each other. 

On the other side of the room, Josephine broke into a loud round of applause. "That's it! That's it, Inquisitor! You got it!"

Hawke chuckled as she pulled her hand away from Liadan. "Now we only have to speed it up a bit. Let's try half speed. But this time you lead."

Swallowing loudly, Liadan blinked at the Champion. "No, I couldn't possibly—"

"You have to stop over-thinking and just go with it. Come on." Hawke grabbed Liadan's arm and put it at the starting position once more. 

" _Step, step—_ "

It took at least an hour of revising the first steps of the dance, but in the end, it was a very productive lesson. Liadan had more or less learned the Dance of Six Candles— although she still did the beginning sequence far slower than the music would be in practice. However, she felt much more comfortable with the confusing footwork, thanks to Hawke and her small hints here and there.

"Right!" Hawke said, a dazzling smile on her face. "Now that you have the steps down, perhaps we should change things up?" The Champion looked over her shoulder to Iron Bull, who was still watching on the other side of the hall. "How about it, Iron Bull? Would you like to go a round with our lovely Inquisitor here?"

"Uh, I don't think-" Liadan stuttered. 

On his side of the hall, Iron Bull let out a grunt. "No thanks. I'm good over here." 

"Oh come on!" Hawke said teasingly as she walked towards Bull. "You don't want me stealing all of her time, do you? Surely, one dance—"

From her side of the hall, Liadan could see Iron Bull's expression change from amused to annoyed. He fixed Hawke with a cold glare. "Really. I'm okay." 

Liadan was a little surprised with how disappointed she felt at his dismissal. She should have been relieved! If she had learned anything from their time together, it was that Iron Bull was far too observant. Even if his boast earlier had been a lie, he'd been watching every one of her lessons closely. She didn't need more proof that it was taking her a lot of time to grasp the dance steps. Not to mention, he would know every time she messed up. He wouldn't say anything, it wasn't in Bull's nature, but he'd still _know_. 

No, it was a good thing he declined the offer to dance. A great thing, really.

But the disappointment was there, overtaking her. Liadan tried not to let it show on her face. The last thing she needed was for him to see how she felt, so she turned her face away from him, just in case. 

Thankfully, Josephine stepped in at that moment. "Actually, Messere Hawke, I do think the Inquisitor has had enough practice for today. Lord desRosier will be here in the morning, and there's still much I have to go over with her."

Turning to the ambassador, Hawke frowned. "That's too bad. But I understand. Duty is never done, is it?" Sighing, she shook her head. "As much as we would like it to be."

At that, Liadan let out a small laugh. "Truer words. Thank you for your time, Messere Hawke. You have my eternal thanks in making sense of the Dance of Six Candles!"

Hawke walked back over to Liadan, offering her hand. "Oh, the pleasure was all mine. After all, not many can boast that they danced with the Blessed Herald of Andraste!"

Liadan felt her cheeks warm as she shook Hawke's hand. "Please don't call me that..."

With a wink, Hawke replied, "As the Lady Inquisitor wishes."

"Liadan is fine," she said, stuttering slightly. 

"I'd say then call me Marian, but I detest my first name, so Hawke is fine." She shifted her grip on Liadan's hand and brought it to her mouth, pressing a light kiss on it.

On the other side if the hall, Iron Bull made a scoffing noise that would have made Cassandra proud. 

As for Liadan, if she melted into the floor at that moment, she would have been fine with that. Hawke wasn't actually flirting with her— she was only being playful. Liadan had heard enough of Varric's tales to know that Hawke was deeply in love with another elf. Still, Liadan couldn't help but feel a little flattered. 

"Hopefully, you'll save a slot for me on your dance card come tomorrow evening, _Liadan_?" Hawke asked, letting go of her hand. 

"O-of course, Me— Hawke."

Hawke beamed. "Wonderful."

Beside her, Josephine cleared her throat. "Inquisitor, we should be on our way?"

"Right!" Liadan replied, a little too loudly. She quickly made her way to the door, with Josephine in tow.

As they left the hall, Liadan looked over her shoulder to see Hawke and Iron Bull having what seemed to be a heated, but quiet, argument. Raising an eyebrow, Liadan opened her mouth to say something. As she did Josephine caught up with her. "Come, Inquisitor," she said, pulling Liadan forward. "Leliana will be waiting for us!"

"But—" She nodded to Iron Bull and Hawke.

Josephine gave her a knowing look. "It's best to not involve yourself. They will be fine. You did nothing wrong."

Liadan blinked. "What? What do you mean?"

"Did you not notice how Messere Hawke was challenging Iron Bull?"

"Challenging?" Liadan stopped in her steps. "What are you talking about?"

Wrapping her arm around Liadan's, Josephine pushed the two of them to keep moving forward. "In her instance that he dance with you! And when he did not rise to it, she kissed your hand in front of him! In Orlesian court—"

"We _aren't_ in an Orlesian court."

The ambassador made a disapproving sound. "And it's a good thing we aren't! What Messere Hawke just did— The Iron Bull would be within his rights to challenge her to a duel for your honor."

" _What_?" Pulling on the arm that Josephine was leading, Liadan brought them both to a full stop. "What are you _talking_ about? Creators, why would Iron Bull have to defend my honor?"

Josephine tilted her head to the side. "Because the two of you are courting." At Liadan's startled expression, Josephine blinked. "What? I thought that was why you were so against potential suitors, you were already involved with—"

" _No!_ " Liadan said emphatically. "We are not— Why does everyone think that—"

"Because we've seen the way you look at him," Josephine reasoned. "Since the two of you returned from Crestwood, there's been a dramatic change. I was sure something had happened while you were gone."

Liadan shook her head. "No, no, no, nothing happened. Well, yes, _something_ happened, but it's not what you think and—" Liadan buried her face in her hands. "I'm just really confused. After all, it's _Iron Bull_. It's just his way."

"While I cannot boast that I understand the inner workings of the Iron Bull's mind, I have marked a distinct chance in his behavior as well." 

Liadan sighed. "We had a talk. That's all. He feels guilty about what I saw in Redcliffe, and I think the change is because of that." 

" _Only_ that?" Josephine said with an eyebrow raised. "It could be that he is genuinely interested in you."

Shaking her head, Liadan ran a hand through her hair. "Definitely not. It's all been in my head, I think. He was with Leliana this morning, Josephine!"

"Inquisitor—" 

And why wouldn't he be interested in Leliana? She was a beautiful and dangerous woman with flowing red hair and striking eyes. Leliana was more than perfect partner for Iron Bull. What did Liadan have to offer him? She was a Dalish mage. And not even a particularly good one. Ever since Redcliffe she had been broken and— 

Josephine's voice tore her away from her dark thoughts. " _Liadan_." She felt a hand on her back. Liadan looked up to see Josephine looking at her sympathetically. "Perhaps you can tell me about it over tea? We can revise some table etiquette and you can tell me everything."

"Thanks Josephine," Liadan said quietly. "Although I'm not sure I'm in a good place to talk about it. Maybe we can talk about something else?"

Nodding, the ambassador once again took Liadan's arm in hers. "I could tell you about the scandal Lady Richelieu was involved in a few years ago in Val Royeaux... There's a live bird used as a hat decoration involved?"

Laughing, Liadan let Josephine lead her away to her office for tea.

 

3.

A dreary, steady rain greeted them the next morning. But come rain or shine, Josephine still expected the Inquisitor and her inner circle to greet Lord desRosier and his entourage when they arrived. Which was why Bull found himself standing outside in the rain along with Lavellan waiting for the stupid asshole to show up. It took almost the entire morning for desRosier to arrive. By then, everyone who was waiting on stand-by was cold, most likely soaked to the bone, and plain miserable. It was like being in Crestwood all over again. But at least Krem had decided to join their little waiting party. He, Krem, and Cassandra stood to the outside of the welcoming party— far enough to not look a threat, but close enough to be able to step in if they needed to.

As arrivals go, Lord desRosier's could have gone worse. After all, there was the Avaar Cheif Movran the Under, who had literally thrown a goat at Skyhold's walls. And while desRosier had not thrown a goat at the fortress' walls, Bull wished he had. At least then the disaster meeting would've been funny.

As desRosier's carriage rode up to the greeting party, Josephine whispered last minute advice in Lavellan's ear. Whatever the ambassador was saying to her, it wasn't helping. Bull watched Lavellan's shoulders become more and more tense as the carriage approached her. Bull made a mental note to do something nice for the Inquisitor after this was all over. Maybe take her out hunting Vint slavers or something else to help relieve the stress that was building up in her shoulders.

Bull could tell that desRosier was from an old Orlesian family from first glance. The man practically exhaled The Game with every breath. Bull had dealt with nobles like him before in Orlais— assholes who thought everything should be given to them just because they were born into the right name. It was shit that Bull would never understand. The Qun might have it's problems, but when you didn't know who your parents were, that was definitely _not_ one of them.

While his mask hid most of his face, it was clear from his body language that desRosier looked less than impressed by what he was greeted with. He eyed the piles of wood and masonry still being used for Skyhold's continued reconstruction with contempt before nodding to Lavellan, who stepped forward.

As she opened her mouth to speak, desRosier glared at her. He quickly turned his attention to Josephine, who was standing at her side. His voice was loud enough that Bull could hear from where he was standing. "Lady Montilyet, the Inquisitor sends out her servants to meet us, but does not appear herself?"

Josephine gave a small smile. "My good Lord desRosier... may I introduce to you Inquisitor Lavellan," she said, gesturing to Lavellan, who was clearly trying not to lose her temper. "The _Herald_ of Andraste," Josephine added, her eyes narrowing slightly. Bull had to stop himself from laughing. If it had come from anyone else, it would have sounded as a simple reminder. But with Josephine, even with her polite tone of voice, she was chiding desRosier, and it was amazing. And far more forgiving then Bull would have been had he been in her position.

It wasn't the first time someone made this mistake, but it hadn't happened in a while. Since Lavellan had dealt with Corypheus in Haven, just about everyone knew that she was a Dalish mage.

Well, everyone but Lord desRosier, apparently— who, after Josephine's correction, looked as though he had swallowed something very sour. After a moment, he recovered enough of his wits to manage a small bow of the head. Bull narrowed his eye. While he didn't understand every minuet detail of Orlesian etiquette, he knew damn well that desRosier wasn't showing the amount of respect that was required for someone like the Inquisitor.

Beside Krem, Cassandra snarled. Smiling, Bull glanced over. "Easy there, Seeker. We can't kill him until _after_ the Winter Palace."

Snorting, Cassandra turned to Bull. "If he will not support the Inquisition, then I do not see why it cannot be sooner."

Bull chuckled. "You got me there. Maybe we can finally see if we can flip a guy? He seems scrawny enough. Should get great lift."

Cassandra covered her sudden burst of laughter with her hand, causing Bull to smile even harder.

Rolling his eyes, Krem let out a sigh. "Chief, could you not plan the murder of the Her Worship's guest? At least not while he's right in front of us?" Krem looked back over to desRosier, who was still looking at Lavellan as if she had three heads. "Even if he is a huge asshole?" he added with a sigh.

"How can you not be affected by this, Bull?" Cassandra said, glaring at desRosier. "You've spent enough time in Orlais to see what he's doing."

"Oh, I definitely am affected by it, make no mistake, Seeker," Bull said, scoffing. "But it's not going to get us anywhere if I just ram him through right now. The boss needs every ally she can get at the moment. We're having to rely on the Empress' cousin for an invite to the Winter Palace, and there's no telling what _he's_ trying to pull once we get there. So even if I want to make a garter out of this asshole's guts," he said, nodding towards desRosier. "If he's going to help her, then so be it. We can scare the crap out of him afterward."

Smirking, Cassandra shook her head. "How practical of you."

Bull shrugged. "Qunari are pretty practical."

"So says the Qunari standing in the pouring rain with no shirt." Krem rolled his eyes.

Another figure climbed out of the carriage. She was older, with an ornate Orlesian emerald encrusted mask that covered most of her face. She must have been the self-proclaimed matchmaker, Lady Richelieu. She, at least, gave Lavellan the proper amount of respect, bowing her head deeply in greeting. It was clear that desRosier only barely tolerated the Lady Richelieu's presence, making Bull wonder why. Their relationship was hard to get a read on, other than desRosier wanted to be as far away from the Lady that he could— which was interesting on its own. Bull made a mental note to do some research. If he had to have leverage on desRosier, that might be the place to start.

Josephine, Lavellan, desRosier, and Lady Richelieu began to head towards Bull and the others. Krem straightened his posture, while Cassandra and Bull made no attempt to impress the visiting party. "Lord desRosier," Lavellan said as she stopped their precession. "May I present Seeker Pentaghast, Right Hand of the late Divine." Cassandra gave a curt nod. "The Iron Bull, Captain of the Bull's Chargers. And his lieutenant Cremisius Aclassi."

"The Bull's Chargers," desRosier said, his lip curling. "A mercenary group, Inquisitor?" Even the way Lord desRosier said _Inquisitor_ was dismissive, letting the _our_ sound of the Orlesian accent hang in the air a moment too long, like he was talking to a petulant child.

Lavellan frowned. She glanced nervously at Bull before replying. "Lord desRosier, the Bull's Chargers are the finest—"

Waving his hand dismissively in Lavellan's face, desRosier interrupted her with an impatient noise. "Yes, I _have_ heard of them, Inquisitor. But one would think that the Inquisition would not have to lower itself to pay for support was more to my point. Especially one with such an... unusual leader."

Bull kept his face neutral. He had a lot of experience with having to deal with nobles and their tendency to say indirect insults to his face, so he just let it roll off of him. However, a quick glance at Krem told Bull that his lieutenant was about to punch something. Or rather, someone. 

However, Lavellan spoke before anyone else could. "That _unusual leader_ is a trusted friend and my personal bodyguard." Her voice was ice cold. She had clearly been spending too much time with Vivienne, because she had the Enchantress’ tone of voice down perfectly.

Josephine stepped in, pushing space between Lavellan and desRosier. There was a nervous smile on her face. "I'm sure Lord desRosier meant no insult, Inquisitor. Isn't that right, Lord desRosier?"

Shrugging dismissively, desRosier waved a hand in Lavellan's face. "Of course I did not, Inquisitor. I apologize for any offense I may have given you."

Lavellan looked like she was about to break desRosier's hand. "You may insult me or my lineage to your heart's content, but I will not tolerate any ill spoken of him or any of the other men under my care whilst you are in these walls. Is that understood?"

"Inquisitor," Josephine pressed.

Lavellan ignored her. " _Is it?_ " Bull could feel the hairs on his arm sticking up, signaling that her magic was going haywire along with her temper.

Narrowing his eyes at Lavellan, desRosier tilted his head to the side as he  stared her down for a moment. " _Absolument_ ," desRosier said with a mischievous smile.

The group of four moved on, towards Skyhold's entrance. As soon as they were out of earshot, Bull shook his head. "Crap." He let out a long sigh. "He's going to be trouble."

"Leliana will be keeping an eye on him, not to worry," Cassandra said reassuringly. "Although I think Lord desRosier will think twice before insulting you in front of the Inquisitor again."

Beside him, Krem started laughing as he bumped his fist on Bull's shoulder. " _Fasta vass_! Did that really just happen? If I'd been on his side of Her Worship's glare, I would have been diving off the bloody cliffs!"

"Well, you're clearly much smarter than Lord desRosier," Cassandra said as she stared at desRosier's backside with contempt. "Only a fool would insult a leader's forces right to her face, while two soldiers and an armed Qunari watched. He's lucky nothing became of his insults."

Bull grunted. "He keeps acting that way, he'll be lucky if he makes it through the night breathing."

"Bull—" Cassandra said in a warning tone.

Putting his hand on his chest, Bull gave Cassandra an innocent look. "I didn't say _I_ was going to kill him. It's just going to make the night interesting, that's all."

Cassandra shook her head as she pressed her fingers to her temples. " _Ulgh._ "

 

4.

Liadan glared at Dorian through the crack of her open door. He was already dressed in his best emerald green robes, his hair and mustache were immaculate and ready to impress anyone within the vicinity. "I'm not going," she said, flatly. She crossed her arms against her chest, and straightened her posture. It was an intimidation technique that she had gotten from Iron Bull. Sure, she was at least two heads shorter than the Qunari, so it wasn't nearly as effective— but that was beside the point.

She had to hand it to Josephine— sending Dorian was an excellent tactic. He wouldn't raise the same suspicion that the ambassador would had she come to knock on her door. But that didn't mean she had to give in.

Dorian only smiled.

Gritting her teeth, Liadan intensified the glare. "I mean it. Lord desRosier is an ass, and I'm not about to let you torture me to make a good impression on him. He's not worth the effort."

"Torture you?" Dorian chortled. "My dear Liadan, why would you think I was planning to torture you?"

"You do _every time_ we have a formal event. Why would this be any different?"

"You're protesting before you—"

"Do you want me to wear a dress?"

"Well, _I_ don't," Dorian said. His mouth quirked up to the side as he winked at her. "If it were up to me, you could go to the party completely naked. You wouldn't get many complains, I'm sure. Especially from a particular Qunari. Half of the nobles think the Dalish dance naked in the moonlight anyway, so no great loss of face there. Although Cullen may have a complete panic attack and wound himself trying to save your decency. And you don't want Cullen to get hurt, do you?" He batted his eyes at Liadan, attempting an innocent look.

" _Goodbye_ Dorian," Liadan said, seething, as she pushed her door shut.

Dorian shrugged flippantly, his smirk growing wider. "Fine. But if you kick me out, next it'll be Josephine. Maybe even Madam Vivienne. Either would be thrilled to help you prepare for the party. I'm sure Madame Vivienne will be quite gentle when painting your face, as she is with all things. Oh, or perhaps Josephine can go over some last minute details with you, not to mention a complete review of the desRosier extensive family lineage again? Because you know neither of them will let you hide up here all evening."

Flinching, Liadan stopped the door just before it closed completely. She hit her head against the door in defeat. "At least tell me it's not some pink ruffle monstrosity again," she said with a groan.

"No pink," Dorian said, chuckling. "Your observant ambassador learned after the last time." 

Not that Liadan hadn't ensured that she'd never have to wear that horrible dress again by lighting it on fire. Repeatedly. She thought back to that particular bonfire with a smug grin of satisfaction. But one never knew with Josephine— she could have some dreaded collection of the horrid things hidden somewhere within Skyhold.

"I assure you, the dress is quite stunning," he said, interrupting her thoughts. "Tasteful, elegant, and— while I will never admit it outside this hallway— you will definitely outshine even my very fine self in it. Why don't you let me in so I can show you?"

Grumbling, Liadan opened the door. One of the elven servants followed him, looking like she was at a loss. Liadan was well aware of the rumors around Skyhold that she, Liadan, was having a love affair with the dreaded Tevinter magister ('not a magister', _she could hear Dorian chiding her_ ). Him coming to her quarters alone, with the open intentions of getting the Inquisitor out of her clothes probably didn't help matters— but Liadan found that she didn't care all that much. The rumors of an affair kept some suitors at bay— although, unfortunately, not all of them.

The dress the servant carried was large and deep blue at first glance— but as the light reflected off of it, she saw it change to a light purple, as if it were enchanted. Dorian was right, it was quite elegant despite the several underskirts and the dreaded corset that came along with it. The servant laid each piece out carefully on the Inquisitor's bed. Her task done, elven servant gave a short bow before exiting the room, leaving Dorian and Liadan alone.

Her arms folded over her chest, Liadan let out an exasperated sigh. "I want it to be known that this is the absolute last thing I want to do."

Letting out a hum of agreement, Dorian nodded. "Yes, I heard what he did."

"Which part?" Liadan laughed incredulously. "The part where he called me a servant, because _ears_? Or the part where he insulted Iron Bull and his men to his face? Or the part where he inferred that the Inquisition is—"

"Shhhh..." Dorian said softly, putting a finger on her mouth. "Stop. You're just going to get yourself worked up again. I know Lord desRosier is a ghastly human being. But you're going to go down there and make nice with him for the evening, because you are our Inquisitor, and we love you," he said, in a slightly mocking tone that Liadan knew was out of concern. "You understand how important it is that we have desRosier's support before we go to the Winter Palace."

Nodding shallowly, she said, "I do."

"However... " A mischievous grin formed on Dorian's lips. "You can show up the idiot lord. It will be a devastating insult to him if no one will be able to take their eyes off you at _his_ welcome dinner."

"What would that do?" Liadan was very doubtful anything could throw Lord desRosier, least of all stealing attention.

"It would be _the worst_ for his reputation. I'm sure your little scene outside already has done some minor damage, but to be outshone by you tonight? It would be a disaster."

"Wouldn't that be working against what we want?"

"A loss of face is much worse than a loss in power— but they don't always go hand in hand." Dorian's grin grew wider. "You must learn the ways of attacking without words, _Inquisitor_."

Liadan looked the dress over and let out a small groan. Whatever humans obsession with women in massive skirts and ruffles was, she would never understand. She did best when she could move around freely— something five layers of skirts made very impossible to do. It was hard to defend oneself while tripping over yards of fabric underfoot. "Why is it always a massive skirt, though? Do humans have something against seeing a woman's legs?" 

Chuckling, Dorian hovered by her right shoulder. "Orlesians, at least. Stuffy Southerners, and all that. Perhaps they want to keep your special lady parts sequestered away?" he said, chuckling. "I've never understood it. In Tevinter, you would get away with showing far more leg— but then again, it's blasted hot, so the last thing you want to do is wear your weight in fabric." 

With a sigh, Liadan said, "And yet they're fine with breasts being forced to look larger." She held up the dreaded corset and glared at the blasted boning that was sure to cause her pain for several hours. " _Humans_." She threw the corset on top of the dress and let out another huff.

"Yes, well..." He placed the small box of powders he was carrying down on her bed as he sat down next to the dress. Smirking, he waved his hand at the corset. "I'm told it drives men wild. Not too sure I see the appeal of cutting off a woman's circulation, but—" Dorian's voice trailed off as he started to unpack the powders he brought. 

"Maybe it's to ensure that women can't run away? If the skirts don't stop them, not being able to breathe deeply will make it harder to escape."

Dorian rolled his eyes. "I fear how awful you'll be when we finally get to the Winter Palace." He nodded towards Liadan. "Just remember, the sooner you get in it, the sooner you can get out of it."

Hiding her mouth behind her hands, Liadan snickered.

"And now I know you've been spending too much time with the brute," Dorian said. He gave her an annoyed look. "Whatever happened to my sweet and innocent Liadan?"

Exasperated, she shook her head. "Yes, the Iron Bull is the one who corrupted me, and not the evil Tevinter usurper."

"I have no idea what you are talking about."

Letting out an amused snort, Liadan started to undress. They had learned from the first time Dorian had helped her prepare for a fancy event, that the two of them could manage by themselves— if not move faster. Dorian kept the fussing and compliments down to a bare minimum— and those that he gave were usually pointed towards himself anyway. He had spent enough time with Liadan by then to know that compliments were not something that she sought out on any terms. Not to mention, the dressing assistants were embarrassed both by Liadan's lack of modesty when it came to showing skin, and with Dorian's cavalier attitude towards seeing the Herald of Andraste naked. 

It was probably the source of the silly affair rumors, now that she thought about it. But what they failed to understand was that any comments on her "exotic beauty" or any of her elven features was far more disarming than undressing before strangers. Being naked was easy. Taking "compliments" about her "otherness"? Not so much.

Between the two of them, they managed to get her dressed without too much trouble. The skirts themselves were even more massive then they looked as she put the layers on. Every time she moved, there was a trail of loud rustling and a shimmer in the corner of her eye. 

Dorian moved on to applying the powders and salves he brought with him to her face. It felt as if her face were caked in mud— which it might have well have been with all the things Dorian had painted on her. She wasn't completely against painting her face, per say. She often used it to her advantage as well, applying the pigment in a way that her eyes seemed even larger, more unearthly. It seemed to unnerve her opponents both on and off the battlefield. But Dorian always put so much on. Luckily, they no longer had the argument about covering up her vallaslin once she had explained how important Mythal's markings were to her.

When he was finished, Dorian brought her over to the full length mirror as he adjusted the fabric of the skirt so it would lay properly on her as Liadan watched her reflection. The color of the dress shifted as Dorian pulled on the material, and it was mesmerizing to watch. Vivienne had to be the one behind the commission of the dress— the grandiose fabric had the enchantress' touch all over it. 

It was no secret that Liadan hated large skirts— and the skirts were _quite large_ on the dress— but everything else was simple. The sleeves spilled off her shoulders, and were very short allowing full movement of her arms. And other than the yards of fabric for her skirts, there were no additional frills. No lace, or decorative buttons. Just the beautiful color shift of the fabric rustling as she moved.

As she looked in the reflection, Liadan was a little stunned by the vision she saw before her. The color of the dress complimented her tan skin, making it seem like her skin was glowing— scars and all. Unlike the pink dress of doom that she had long since burned, this dress made her feel powerful and regal. It flowed with her every movement. She adjusted her posture as Dorian stood up straight behind her. He placed his hands on her shoulders, and smiled at their reflection in her mirror. "Dear heart, I think you could take over all of Thedas in this dress."

Liadan smiled, staring at her painted lips. "I should bring it with us when we face down Corypheus next time. Think he'll surrender?" 

He placed a light kiss on Liadan's cheek. "He'd be a fool to not fall to his knees at the sight of you," he said. He pulled out a few silk roses from the pockets of his robe. "Now, for the final touch—"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those wondering, for Liadan's gown I referenced Dita Von Teese's wedding dress, minus the cute hat. It's not precisely period, but Orlesian fashions kind of go all over the place period wise so...


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's time! We've finally made it to _the scene_. Have _Kiss Me_ by Sixpence None the Richer ready to play. 
> 
> For the Dance of Six Candles, I wrote it with Händel's _Water Music Suite No.3 in G Major, HWV 350: V. Country Dance_ in mind. Yes, _the dance_ in my head is completely the scene between Caroline and Dr. Struensee in _A Royal Affair_ ( _which if you haven't seen, you should_ ) with a few additional dips and twirls. Theoretically, if they were doing 100% period perfect Baroque dancing, there would be neither of those-- but as _DAI_ established in the Winter Palace, dips are okay I guess? Psssst... I did _way_ too much research on Baroque dancing for this chapter. Also writing about dancing is _hard_.
> 
> My never-ending thanks to [feelslikefire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/feelslikefire/pseuds/feelslikefire) for helping me break through the issues I was having connecting parts of the party, and for assuring me my character choices made sense. Liadan took some big(ish) steps in this chapter, and feelslikefire helped me through them. 
> 
> And thank you so much for all the kudos! You are awesome for reading along with my crazy idea. I'd love to hear what you think of this newest chapter and all the UST that is building up to a head *evil laugh*
> 
> Direct quotes from both _She's All That_ and _DAI_ are sprinkled throughout. Characters, of course, belong to BioWare. Thank you BioWare for stealing many hours of my life, but giving me so much joy in return.

1.

Bull hated parties.

Correction, he hated _Orlesian_ parties. The poncy ones, not the ones that could be found in hole in the wall pubs, where _normal_ people were. At least at _those_ you could get a decent sized drink and something to eat that would actually fill you up.

Skyhold's receiving hall was already thick with conversation and tilted laughter. Bull positioned himself in the perfect place near the War Room door, giving him the ability to keep an eye on everything. 

The visiting nobles grouped themselves in various circles around the room, chatting with drinks in their hand while servants weaved to and fro. Of course, Madam Vivienne was moving from one circle of nobles to another, bright smile on her face and a friendly tone to her voice. Bull had never seen such a show from her, and it was a little impressive. She even picked out a taller hat than usual to go with the stunning pearl white dress that she was wearing— and he definitely noticed the dawnstone inlets like she most certainly intended him to see. Damn his big mouth. 

Blackwall kept Sera busy with trying to drink themselves under the table while Hawke and Varric goaded them on. Sera had yet to shoot any nobles in the ass, but the night was still young. Solas was in quiet discussion with Cole. The boy's eyes were bulging as they darted back and forth between the guests. Bull didn't have to hear what the spirit was saying to know that he was doing that crazy-talk-mind-reading _thing_ he liked to do. Bull had plenty of that in Crestwood to know what he looked like. With the number of people in the hall, Bull did not envy Solas. Meanwhile, Cassandra and Cullen edged as far away from the party as they politely could without getting a glare from Josephine. They were clearly looking for a way to make a break for it as soon as they possibly could.

As Bull watched the crowd, Leliana appeared on his left side. He couldn't help but do a double take when he saw her. It was the first time Bull had seen her out of her hood and leathers. She was dressed in a low cut golden dress. The bodice was covered in white lace, bows, and pink silk roses. She wore a large choker made entirely of matching white lace and silk roses. He couldn't help but notice, despite her pride in being raised in Orlais, she wasn't wearing one of those stupid masks. But then again, he knew her well enough that Bull could assume it was so she could keep her peripheral vision clear. Just because it was a party didn't mean that they could let their guard down. 

"Have you seen the Inquisitor yet?" she asked, taking a sip from her champagne. "Lord desRosier is starting to think she's stood him up." She tipped her glass in the direction where desRosier was standing.

Bull crossed his arms against his chest as he glared over in desRosier's direction. Josephine was happily having a conversation with Lord desRosier. Bull didn't need to see the man's face to know he was getting impatient— his body language alone gave that away. "It _is_ her castle," he said, letting out an unimpressed grunt. "Pretty sure she's allowed to if she wants."

"I think Dorian would've come bounding down the stairs by now if she were. He understands how important this connection is," Leliana said, shrugging her right shoulder. "But he's been up there for several hours."

"Dorian insists on being fashionably late for everything." 

Leliana pressed her lips together. "Be that as it may, Lord desRosier will not wait forever. Do you mind going up and fetching her, Iron Bull?"

Grumbling, Bull glared at the spymaster. "Am I your page boy now?"

"If you'd like," Leliana replied, a wide smirk on her lips. "No, I'm asking because she won't turn you away. And if she is having second thoughts, you'll be able to convince her to come down."

"And what if she's half dressed? You want me to drag her down here anyway? Because, I mean, _I_ have no problem with that but—"

Leliana rolled her eyes. "If we could _not_ cause a scandal tonight, that would be best."

"You're no fun, Red."

It had to have been Leliana's idea to put the Inquisitor up five flights of stairs— that way it would be easier to protect her from any dangers that might invade Skyhold. It was smart really, because climbing up them was definitely a pain in the ass. While Bull's pace started quick, the higher he got, the slower he moved. Not that he was winded or anything. 

As he reached the last landing, the door to her room opened. It was Dorian. "Dear heart, do stop being ridiculous. It will be _fine_ , you'll see." As he stepped out of the room, he noticed Bull. "We'll be right down. She's just being a little shy—"

"Dorian, who is it?" Bull heard the Inquisitor ask. 

Turning his attention back to the open door, Dorian said, "I _told you_ we were taking too long. Josephine sent a search party."

"And whose fault is that?" she called, sounding further away from the door.

Rolling his eyes, Dorian stomped back over to the threshold of Lavellan's room. "The party is going to be over before you ever arrive at this rate. The idea _was_ to show the kind lord up, remember? You can't do that if you don't even _go_."

"Will the skirts even fit through the door?"

"Don't be ridiculous, of course they will! Now, come on!" Dorian walked away from the door, taking the stairs a few at a time. He watched Bull closely, a smirk on his face. He stopped two steps higher than Bull was standing. With a flourished gesture, and a loud clearing of the throat, Dorian gave a shallow bow. "May I present the Herald of Andraste, Inquisitor Liadan Lavellan..."

Bull looked up at Lavellan's door. There was still no movement. He looked at Dorian, with an eyebrow raised.

Straightening his posture, Dorian let out a loud huff. " _Liadan Lavellan_ , if you don't get yourself down here, I promise you, I will raid your wine collection tonight while you sleep!"

"You wouldn't _dare_ —!"

Dorian grinned. "Try me."

Slowly the skirts of her dress emerged through the door. Bull's eye trailed up her figure as she finally made it through the door, massive flowing skirts and all. As she looked up to see who was there, their eyes met. 

Bull felt like he was on the inside of one of Dorian's haste spells. Everything around him seemed to be going far too slow, and he, way too fast. All the air left his lungs and his throat pulled tight. 

He had spent a lot of time in Orlais, and had seen his fair share of fancy dresses while there, but the Inquisitor's dress was one of the most stunning he had ever seen. The fabric was a flowing deep blue that shifted to purple as the light from the candles shone on the fabric. The skirts pooled around her, shimmering with every move she made. It was like there was a constant lightning spell hovering around her— but not in a way that raised his hackles. It made her seem even more ethereal than she did when she was actually casting her spells. Her hair was pulled up into an elaborate braid going towards the top of her head, intertwined with white, purple, and blue silk roses. A few strands of her blond-white hair were curled to frame her face on the unshaved side, one dangling teasingly close to her red lips, demanding the utmost attention.

She was absolutely mesmerizing. 

Her eyes were still locked on his as she slowly made her way down the stairs. Bull could hear his heartbeat thrumming in his ears as she neared. 

And then, just as she stepped off the landing in front of him, her foot caught on her massive skirts, and she fell forward.

Bull reached out without thinking, catching her easily. Lavellan clung to his neck for dear life as he held her tightly to his chest. They just stood there, neither of them moving, stuck in the moment. 

Bull was torn between putting her down and never letting her go. The last time he held her in his arms, her body was lifeless, and he was half scared that she wasn't going to recover. Now? He could feel her warm hands against his skin, feeling like they were always meant to be there. And shit that was a terrifying thought.

Clearing his throat loudly, Bull pushed Lavellan away. Although he didn't let go of her. His hands moved to her waist to support her while she regained her bearings. "All right, boss?" he said, his mouth pulling to one side.

She nodded silently, decidedly not looking at Bull. Instead, she turned her focus to Dorian, who was watching the entire spectacle with an amused grin. "I told you the bloody skirts were dangerous," she said, wobbling as she pulled away from Bull's hold. 

Heart still pounding in his ears, Bull pretended as through nothing was wrong.

Shrugging, Dorian brushed it off. "Such are the sacrifices we make for perfection. But why take my word for it?" Still grinning, he turned to Bull and said, "What do you say, Iron Bull? Doesn't she look beautiful?"

Bull took a moment to consider, looking her over once again, and trying to not become entranced with the glow surrounding her. "Yeah," he said softly. "She kind of does."

"Kind of?" Dorian scoffed. "Never mind! I didn't know _why_ I thought a _Qunari_ would be able to appreciate such a splendid display. Your idea of beauty is a dragon breathing fire at you." He pushed past Bull, leading Lavellan behind him. "Come on, dear heart. I'll make sure you don't fall to your death."

Lavellan laughed nervously, holding tight to Dorian's arm. Bull followed as the two made their way down the staircase in friendly camaraderie. "If I do, may the dread wolf take you. This is the last time I'll be wearing one of these things. Next time I insist on pants and a waistcoat!"

Going down the stairs was definitely easier than going up.

As they entered the entrance hall, Bull stood back, opting to stand by her door and watch the proceedings. Every eye in the entrance hall was on Lavellan and Dorian as they made their way through, arm in arm. It was as if she had cast a spell over all of them. 

Bull felt a surge of pride burn through him as he watched the spectacle. Lavellan's head was held high, and her face showed that she knew just how amazing she looked. This was _The Inquisitor_ , the Herald of Andraste, before them— surpassing all of the myths spoken about her in hushed whispers. This was the woman who would ensnare the hearts of Orlesian court with a tilt of her head and her amazing smile. It was more than the show of beauty and poise— it was the confidence shining in her eyes. 

It compelled one to unquestionably follow where she led. 

Leliana appeared beside him. With an approving hum, she said, "That certainly was fast. Thank you Iron Bull." 

"She was already on her way down," Bull said, shrugging.

"I'm sure she was," Leliana replied, sounding very much not convinced. "She's here now, that's the important thing. And she looks absolutely stunning in that dress. Madam Vivienne picks them well. I'll have to send a very large tip to her tailor." Nudging Bull in the arm, she pointed towards one of the noble circles. "Look at how desRosier is staring at her. He is truly entranced."

While he gave an agreeing grunt, Bull wasn't looking at desRosier at all. He was watching as Dorian whispered something in Lavellan's ear, making her laugh lightly. The smile on her face sent Bull's stomach spinning. Even on pain of torture, Bull would not admit how much he was kicking himself for not offering to take her down the stairs. Or how very much he wanted to be in Dorian's shoes at that moment. 

To have Lavellan on his arm, smiling at _him_ like that?

Well, shit. _Taarsidath-an halsaam_.

 

2.

The tiny cakes table was far more tempting than normal. Liadan eyed it for the third time that night. Not that she thought she would be able to eat anything with how bloody tight her dress was— but the pink cakes were her _favorite_ and they really looked delicious. As did the chicken. And the minced meat pies. _Don't think about how delicious everything looks..._ Liadan purposefully turned herself away from the tempting food tables as Comtesse Lutetia went on about her butterfly collection.

"Lady Herald, your dress reminds me quite a bit of my _Morpho didius_ specimens. They are exquisite!" The Comtesse brought a hand up to her cheek and let out a blissful sigh. "The wings of the _Morpho didius_ are a breathtaking iridescent blue—" Liadan only half listened as the Comtesse continued. Liadan had long learned her lesson _not_ to encourage the subject of butterflies with the Comtesse. And as pleased as Liadan was with how beautiful the dress was, she certainly did not want to be stuck discussing the differing larval stages of butterflies for the entire evening with the Comtesse either. 

Scanning the room, she frantically looked to signal someone who could save her from her fate. Dorian was incredibly involved in shamelessly flirting with Cullen as the poor Commander edged away from the party while Cassandra loomed behind him, disapproving. Blackwall and Sera had somehow roped Varric and Hawke into their drinking competition, which was now gathering a small crowd of nobles cheering and clearly taking bets on the outcome. She couldn't find Iron Bull anywhere, which was notably strange, considering he was a _Qunari_ with horns, and he tended to stand out. 

There was also Lord desRosier watching her with a heated look from the other side of the hall. 

Maybe staying and talking about butterflies all night with Comtesse Lutetia was a safer plan.

She felt a light hand on her shoulder. Turning her head, she saw Solas smiling at the Comtesse. It was clearly ingenue, as it did not quite reach his eyes, but the Comtesse returned it regardless. "I am sorry to interrupt, Comtesse, but if I could borrow the Inquisitor for a moment? There is a pressing matter that must be brought to her attention."

"Oh, why yes of course!" The Comtesse let out a coquettish giggle as she hid her mouth behind her hand. Liadan quickly looked back and forth between the two of them. Was she missing something? Solas was just... _Solas_. Creators, how was it that he could impress an Orlesian Comtesse with such ease?

Nodding his head in thanks, Solas took Liadan's hand in his and made a show of taking her away from the Comtesse. 

Once they were safely out of the Comtesse's earshot, Liadan shook her head, chortling. "Thanks for rescuing me. I thought I had learned everything there was to know about butterflies from my last conversation with the Comtesse, but clearly I was wrong."

Solas' smile turned genuine. "You never know when such knowledge could come in handy. Perhaps, Corypheus will send a legion of butterflies after you— then what will you do?"

"Hmmm..." Liadan smirked. "I suppose I'll put this dress back on to stake my claim as queen of the butterflies."

"And what a charming queen you would make." His eyes met hers and Liadan, for just a a moment, could feel her breath catch. But before anything else could be said, Solas cleared his throat loudly and turned his attention away from her— the moment lost. 

It was something she should have been used to by now. She had noticed rather early in their acquaintance that Solas had a flirtatious streak when it came to her. It still puzzled Liadan. The two had butted heads so often when they had first met at Haven. Solas' low opinions of the Dalish had become such a sore subject that on more than one occasion Cassandra had to physically restrain Liadan from punching Solas in the face (while, it had to be noted, Sera was rolling on the ground laughing hysterically). For the most part, he showed no actual interest in her— only the mark on her hand and how _fascinating_ it was. Often he even talked down to her as if she were a petulant child. So when his interspersed attempts at flirting _did_ happen, they were always jarring— and always over just as soon as they begun. 

Liadan wasn't sure what to make of it, even if she were interested. She wasn't really— not when he looked down on _her_ people. Not even _their_ people, because Solas _was not Dalish_ as he repeatedly insisted to her. 

"The night seems to be going well," Solas said, his voice bringing Liadan's thoughts back to the present. "Josephine has outdone herself. But still, this is nothing compared to how grandiose the Winter Palace will be."

Liadan let out a loud sigh. "Please don't remind me. Tonight is bad enough with Josephine wanting me to greet and dance with every noble here. Honestly, I don't know how she remembers all these names and faces."

"Dance with?" Solas blinked. He looked towards the small area that had been set aside for dancing. "Well, so far it seems you have escaped that terrible peril." There were quite a few dancing along with the small collection of musicians they had, but Liadan had done everything in her power to avoid getting near there. "What a shame."

Liadan opened her mouth in mock surprise. "I had no idea you wanted to watch me make a fool of myself in a public setting!"

"On the contrary. I was nearly observing that you have been diligently practicing as of late," he said, shrugging. "I must admit, I was looking forward to seeing the fruits of Josephine's lessons."

"Are you interested in seeing Orlesian dances?" Liadan raised an eyebrow. 

He tipped his head to the side as he gave a thoughtful hum. "I am interested in seeing _you_ dance them, Inquisitor."

"Are you asking me to dance, Solas?" She meant it playfully, to continue their banter. But it froze Solas in his steps. Liadan blinked at him in confusion. 

Solas shook his head no, a wistful expression on his face. "I do not think dancing with an elven apostate will win you many favors here, despite your good intentions. Perhaps another time." He gave a shallow bow. 

As Liadan opened her mouth to reply, Josephine pulled at her elbow. "Inquisitor, if you have a moment? There is someone I would like to introduce to you." 

"Uh-" Liadan looked to Josephine, and then quickly looked back to where Solas was standing. However, he had already walked away, fading back into the party without looking back. "Sure, Josephine," she said with once last glance. 

Josephine gestured to the young lady behind her. The girl was dressed in an elaborate white gown and had bright red hair— the stark white dress and diamond encrusted white mask only bringing more attention to her intensely colored hair. Behind the young lady was undoubtedly the girl's mother. She looked to be a copy of her daughter, only with less vibrant colored hair, dulled with age and streaks of gray. Her mask was plain, save for the gold finish around the tips near her eyes. "Inquisitor, if I may introduce Lady Velise Thibault, and her daughter Celeste." 

The two ladies curtsied low, letting their large skirts pool around them as they murmured, "Lady Herald." 

"Please, stand," Liadan implored, offering her hand to Celeste. "I'm not deserving of such—"

"Of course you are!" Celeste said before she realized what she was doing. Her face flushed as she covered her mouth in embarrassment. She quickly looked away. "I mean—"

Lady Thibault stepped forward, placing her hand reassuringly on her daughter's shoulder. "Please excuse my daughter, Lady Herald. She lacks experience in society. I must admit she is quite fond of your adventures. She only made her debut this season and has yet to learn how to control her emotional outbursts."

Smiling at the young lady, Liadan felt a rush of companionship towards her. "That's alright. She's had more experience then myself," she added with a small laugh. 

Celeste returned the smile, before quickly hiding it behind her hand again. Her eyes glanced at the hand that Liadan still held before gently pulling away from her. "Do forgive me, my Lady. I must admit, I am rather nervous."

Stepping forward, Josephine nodded to the two women. "Lady Thibault has been a steadfast ally of the Inquisition."

The elder Thibault bowed her head in acknowledgment. "My position in court is rather low, but I have a loud voice, Lady Herald. And I do not tire easily." 

"Good to hear," Liadan replied with a beaming smile. "We need more supporters in court like you, Lady Thibault."

Putting a hand on Celeste's shoulder, Josephine nodded to the young girl. "Celeste was just inquiring after a dance with you, Inquisitor."

"I am rather fond of dancing," Celeste said as she coyly looked away.

"I told her that of course you would be delighted," Josephine continued. "But you were first obliged to dance with the guest of honor."

" _Ah._ That is true, Celeste. However, I do believe Lord desRosier looks quite busy at the moment." Liadan nodded over to the group of nobles that had surrounded themselves around desRosier, who looked quite irked by the crowd, but nonetheless was participating in the discussion despite the irritated look on his face. Josephine opened her mouth, clearly about to protest, but Liadan interrupted her by offering her arm to Celeste. "I'll tell you what— how about I introduce you to Lord Pavus?"

Celeste gave Liadan a scandalized look. "The Tevinter magister?" The girl took her arm regardless, looking completely thrilled at the prospect.

"Inquisitor—" Josephine pressed her lips together in a frown. 

"He is indeed!" Liadan continued, ignoring her ambassador. "But don't hold that against him, he is an asset to the Inquisition."

"Oh!" Celeste squealed in delight. "Was he the man who accompanied you in this evening? He's so _handsome_!"

"I'm sure he would be delighted to dance with you while I wait until Lord desRosier is free." As she spoke, Liadan lead Celeste towards where Dorian was mingling. 

She could feel Josephine's disapproving glare burrowing into her back. It wasn't that Liadan wouldn't dance with Lord desRosier— she would _eventually_. She knew how important it was that desRosier remained happy. But she didn't see what was wrong with making him squirm for a little while. 

As long as he had her first dance, it would be fine. 

She glanced over her shoulder, to see desRosier glaring at her.

Then again—

Celeste buzzed in excitement as they walked. "You two were quite a pair making your entrance like that! It was something out of a fairytale! Mama said that you and the magister are lovers?" 

Liadan smiled nervously. "Ah, that's only hearsay, I'm afraid. We _are_ friends, but that's all."

"Oh..." the girl's face deflated in disappointment.

Dorian saw the two of them heading towards him. He looked at Liadan curiously, with a half smile on his face. Nodding in greeting, he said, "Lady Inquisitor, to what do I owe the pleasure?" He took Liadan's free hand and gave it a small kiss. Beside her, Celeste tittered. Dorian's charm went full blast as he turned to Celeste, giving her his best charming smile. "And who is this lovely creature you've captured, dear heart?"

Rolling her eyes, Liadan gestured to the young lady. "Dorian, this is Lady Celeste Thibault. Celeste, this is Lord Dorian Pavus."

"Charmed," Dorian said, taking Celeste's hand in his and pressing a kiss to it as well. 

The younger girl attempted to reply, but had only succeeded in making strange sounds. Sighing, Liadan stepped in. "Celeste is rather fond of dancing, Dorian," she said, using the girl's words from earlier. "I was wondering if you wouldn't mind dancing a set with her, while I join our guest of honor on the floor?"

Grinning, Dorian bowed his head with a flourish. "I would be absolutely delighted," he said, offering his arm to her. 

Knowing full well how strong the pull of Dorian's flirtations were, Liadan raised an eyebrow at him. 

Celeste looked as if she were about to explode in happiness as she took the proffered arm. Dorian brought the girl in close. "Now Lady Thibault, you'll have to excuse my Northern quirks when it comes to the dances. Some of the Southern versions are a bit too timid for my tastes." The girl's face turned a bright pink as the two made their way to the dance floor. Dorian turned to Liadan, his smile turned roguish, as he nodded in the direction of where Lord desRosier was waiting. He mouthed the word " _Go._ "

Sighing, Liadan followed her friend's instruction and turned to where Lord desRosier was standing. When she reached him, she gave a low curtsy. "My dear Lord desRosier. Thank you for your patience this evening. I'm sure you understand the intricacies of being a host in demand." Lord desRosier gave an impatient snort, but Liadan was not to be deterred. "Can I have this dance?" she asked, demurely offering her hand to him.

Lord desRosier stared at the proffered hand, his mouth twitching for a moment before acquiescing to take it. "Is this how the Inquisition treats it's guests? You've kept me waiting for far too long," he muttered as they walked to the dance floor.

"Again, I apologize, Lord desRosier," Liadan said while biting the inside of her cheek. _Keep it calm_ she reminded herself. "If it will make amends, then I'd be more than willing to dance two movements with you this evening."

"I would not want to monopolize more of your precious time, Lady Inquisitor," Lord desRosier said as they took their positions on the floor. "I'm sure you have _other guests_ to attend to as well."

As the music swelled, Liadan took a deep, calming, breath. She reminded herself of Dorian's words of wisdom. She needed to outshine Lord desRosier, and if it took having to be the most charming dance partner at the party, then so be it.

 

3.

Providing protection during a large gathering was always a bit of a headache when it came to logistics. Any time there were unknowns coming into the equation, there was always a risk of someone with foul intentions taking advantage of the situation. It wasn't that Bull didn't give the spymaster the benefit of the doubt when it came to protecting the Inquisitor, but even Leliana couldn't be everywhere at once— as much as she seemed to think she could.

Krem, Stitches, and Grim had infiltrated the guests, as they were the most capable with keeping their cool with drunken nobles saying stupid shit. They had done enough parties in Orlais to know what to expect. The rest of the Chargers were down on the main grounds, some patrolling openly, some stalking the shadows of the parapets. 

As for himself, well, Bull was the Inquisitor's bodyguard. And while he couldn't literally tie himself to her hip (although that wasn't the _worst_ idea, really), he could stay in the shadows watching her for the night. It'd probably fed into Leliana's stalker theory, but he really didn't give a damn. Bull did not trust this desRosier in the slightest. There was a look in the Lord's eyes every time he looked at Lavellan that just did not sit well with Bull. 

Sexually driven or no, it was not a _safe look_. 

The bad feeling settled in Bull's gut as Lavellan took the floor with desRosier. Somewhere in the back of his head, Bull's mind reasoned that she had no choice in the matter. She was the host, and desRosier was the guest of honor. Josephine would insist, desRosier's pending unwanted offer of marriage or no. As the Inquisitor's bodyguard, he needed to make sure she was kept safe from whatever desRosier's intentions were. 

As for the other feeling bubbling inside of him, well, that was much more complicated. Better to focus on the task at hand, and not whatever feeling that was surging through him.

Bull pushed through the guests to get closer to where Lavellan was being led. When he reached the area marked for the dance floor, he came back to his senses and stopped. He crossed his arms against his chest, watching the two with the most intimidating look that he could manage. 

Lavellan adjusted her skirts as the music began, the candlelight shimmering on the fabric of her dress as she did so. Bull once again found himself entranced as he watched her offer her hand to desRosier. Her eyes shone with certainty. The couple began gliding across the floor. Josephine's lessons had really paid off. The boss was completely comfortable in her steps as the two began a slow waltz. Lavellan looked as if she belonged there, spent her entire life there, in fact. Something had given her the confidence that she had been lacking only days ago that night in Crestwood when she had spilled her heart out to him. She was finally becoming the Inquisitor everyone wanted, needed, to bring them through this. 

Her partner, however, was a different story.

Lord desRosier moved stiffly and completely out of sync with the music. His fancy Orlesian mask did nothing to hide the displeased look on his face at her merely touching his hand. But Bull had kept a steady eye on the Lord all night, and was well aware of the lustful looks he had been shooting towards Lavellan. So desRosier was at odds with his attraction? He wouldn't be the first. As an Orlesian lord, he must have been disgusted with himself for lusting after an elf, much less having to dance with her in front of so many nobles. He had to be polite while also trying to look unhappy with the situation. 

It had to be exhausting being a noble.

The couple did not look like they were having a good time at all. Lord desRosier's lead was a bit too strong. If the expression on the Inquisitor's face was any indication, she wanted to get out of there as soon as she possibly could. During one of the spins, it looked as if desRosier had practically thrown her across the floor. 

That move alone had Bull moving to pull them apart, but a warning look from Leliana on the opposite side of the dance floor held him in place. 

_Right._ Sending the Qunari into the middle of the floor to beat the shit out of the guest of honor would probably not have been the best move. They needed desRosier's support. It would be hard to get the support of a dead man.

Krem approached Bull on his right side, two goblets in his hands. Bull took one of the goblets with a grateful nod. He poured the liquor down his throat, barely tasting it as it went down. He would definitely need more drinks if this was how the night was going to continue. 

Letting out a snort, Krem shook his head. "Well, Her Worship certainly looks like she's having fun."

"Oh yeah," Bull said a bit more briskly then he intended as he shook his head. "With such a shitty partner, I'm sure she's having _loads_." One of the girls from the other couples laughed as they passed by them, drawing Bull's attention away from Lavellan. It was Dorian's partner. Her massive white skirts flowed around her as they spun around the dance floor. It seemed the Vint's charm was going at full blast. Bull rolled his eye before focusing back on Lavellan. "I mean, look at that guy's form!" he said, swiping his hand in the air as he gestured at desRosier. "The boss just learned this waltz last week, and she's dancing circles around him."

"Pretty sure that's the idea, Chief. That's what you do when you _dance_."

Bull elbowed Krem hard enough in the side to knock him slightly off balance. "You're hilarious, Krem."

Without missing a beat, the Lieutenant gave Bull a shit eating grin. "Learned it all from you, Chief." Krem laughed loudly at the glare Bull shot towards him. "Besides, when did you become a connoisseur of dancing? Two years we worked in Orlais, and I never once saw you set foot on a dance floor."

" _And?_ " Bull raised his eyebrow. "Doesn't mean I don't know _how_. Not to mention I've been sitting through the Boss' lessons every day since we got back from Crestwood, Krem. I've been paying attention." 

Krem smiled knowingly. "Paying attention to _what_ , exactly?"

Annoyed, Bull narrowed his eye at Krem as he let out a long breath. Bull's incredulous look only made Krem's smile grow larger. With a grunt, Bull turned his attention back to the dance floor only to see desRosier dipping Lavellan low again. He let out a string of curses in Qunlat. "If that asshole doesn't stop trying to crack her head open on the floor—"

"Pretty sure that's just a dip, Chief."

"No, _it isn't_. Dips are something done with a certain amount of finesse and care. Instead of supporting her, he's practically dropping her."

"So go out there and show him how it's done! Go sweep Her Worship off her feet!"

Bull let out another loud snort. "Okay, one, I can't just _go out there_ in the middle of a dance. It's one of the highest levels of taboo in Orlesian society. I'd be making a huge scene that the boss _really_ doesn't need right now. Two, even if I waited until the dance was over, and I somehow didn't spend the rest of my night beating the crap out of that asshole, I can't just drop everything and dance with the boss! I'm supposed to be her bodyguard."

Krem have Bull a confused look. "And?"

" _And_ , it's really hard to keep a look out for things trying to kill her while dancing."

Crossing his arms against his chest, Krem considered Bull's words for a moment. "I'm pretty sure being right next to Her Worship would put you in a good position to see any potential threats. The boys and I are keeping a look out, along with Sister Nightingale and her spies. Not to mention, I'm sure the Commander is secretly praying for some disaster to happen so he could escape his audience." Krem pointed over to where Cullen and Cassandra were now surrounded by a large group of women, and some men, fawning over Cullen's looks, while Cassandra scoffed repeatedly at all the attention. 

" _Krem_ ," Bull said firmly. "It's not going to happen. Her reputation would—"

Krem made an impatient noise. "Like Her Worship gives a damn about her 'reputation.'"

"She better give a damn—"

"And since when does _The Iron Bull_ care about reputation?"

"Oh now this looks interesting!" Hawke pushed herself between Krem and Bull, a large smile on her face. She wrapped an arm around Krem's shoulders, and tried to attempt to do the same with Bull. But, _height difference_ , so it didn't work. "And what are you two gentlemen in such a heated debate about?" 

"Champion!" The openness of Krem's smile was telling. Was Bull the only one who really didn't find the Champion incredibly charming? "Maybe you can talk some sense into the Chief here."

Hawke laughed. "If it has anything to do with the Lady Inquisitor, I've already tried, Cremisius."

Bull grunted in response. 

"You already spoke to the Chief about Her Worship?" Krem gave an impressed hum. "How did that go?"

"He got rather cross with me, didn't you, Bull?" Hawke said, smirking at Bull.

Bull grunted again. 

"Yeah, he does that," Krem said. "Denial and all."

Once more, the Lavellan and desRosier passed in front of their small group, Bull's narrowed eye following them closely. He focused on the changing color of Lavellan's dress, and where that bastard's hands were placed on her body. 

Looking back and forth from Bull to Lavellan, Hawke gave a knowing nod. "I see. So the Lady Inquisitor is having troubles with her dance partner? What a shame. Perhaps I should save her from that uncoordinated brute and ask her hand for the next dance? This set will be over shortly."

"Since the Chief is too chicken to do it himself, maybe you should." Krem rolled his eyes.

"We're supposed to be here as security," Bull reasoned.

Krem elbowed Bull hard in the arm. "Just admit that _The_ Iron Bull doesn't actually know how to dance and be done with it."

Hawke raised her eyebrows. "Wait, so _you_ don't even know if he can dance, Cremisius? The way he boasted yesterday during the Inquisitor's lessons... I would have thought you of all people would be able to confirm it!"

The waltz drew to a close. The dancers on the floor bowed to their partners in thanks. Lavellan was quickly surrounded by the other dancers on the floor, applauding her and desRosier.

" _I've_ never seen the Chief do some kind of proper dance. Little get togethers in taverns, sure. But something like this? Never." The two shared a conspiratorial glance to one another. 

Letting out a barking laugh, Bull shook his head. "You two really think that a Ben-Hassrath sent to the South wouldn't learn how to mingle in proper Orlesian society?"

Krem crossed his arms as he gave Bull an expectant look. 

Bull laughed again. "Right. You certain enough to put money towards it?"

"Are _you_?" Krem retorted. 

Bull looked to Hawke expectantly. Chuckling, she shook her head. "Oh no. I know a scam when I see one. I've known Varric far too long. Besides, it looks as though she's already been saved." 

He turned to see Lavellan was already being approached by Dorian and his partner. With some animated gestures of his arms, it seemed Dorian had somehow convinced desRosier to trade dance partners with him. It also looked as if desRosier seemed less than pleased with the arrangement, but Dorian being Dorian wasn't going to take no for an answer 

Hawke pointed to Lavellan and her new dance partner as they took their place on the floor. "Isn't that the Pavus fellow? From Tevinter?"

"That is Lord Dorian Pavus, yes," Krem said. There was a sarcastic tone to his voice . Not that Bull could blame Krem. Having a Tevinter noble join the Inquisition's inner circle was the last thing Bull expected when he signed up. And he had spent more time with the Vint then Krem had. 

Clasping her hands together, Hawke's entire face lit up. "And don't they make a handsome pair! I'd heard rumors, but Maker to see it up close!"

"They're _friends_ ," Bull stressed. "Trust me on this one."

"They're thick as thieves, those two. Almost always together." Glancing at Bull, Krem added, "That is, when the Chief isn't lurking around Her Worship. He's too chicken to do anything else."

Giving Krem an indignant look, Bull shook his head. "You're going to regret that, Krem."

 

4.

Across the dance floor, Lord desRosier was still frowning, looking increasingly unhappy with the entire situation of switching partners. Liadan felt worst for Celeste. Her own dance with Lord desRosier had been a harrowing experience. Not that she had much to compare it to, but Liadan could see that desRosier was far too assertive in leading, and there had been quite a few times she had to prevent herself from being thrown around too much by his carelessness. But it was impossible for her to determine if it was because of his lack of skill or because of her's. When Josie boasted that they had mastered a handful of waltzes in a short time— the "mastered" was a very loose term. Reaching the end of the dance without falling on her face was a much more accurate description.

Celeste looked as though she was handling such an aggressive dance partner better, but the longing looks she kept giving Dorian made it clear she wasn't happy about the switch in partners either.

"What did I tell you, dear heart?" Dorian said with a dazzling smile. "No one can take their eyes off us. And while we both know why they are watching my very attractive self, they are watching you more."

"Oh is that why you asked me to dance?" Liadan smirked at him. "Were you not getting enough attention?"

" _I_ was merely trying to save you from that ghastly man. Someone with your beauty and grace should be partnered with someone who compliments your skills, not one who's trying to stomp on them."

"There was quite a bit of stomping."

He snorted. "I wouldn't be surprised to find indents on the floors tomorrow! Simply astounding how someone so seeped in The Game can barely make his way around the dance floor. He wouldn't last a minute in Tevinter."

"You know, the way you are always on about Tevinter, I'm going to have to see it for myself one of these days."

Shrugging, Dorian brought Liadan into a small spin. "I'd be delighted, Liadan. And will that be before or after my countrymen burn everything we touch to the ground? Because, while I am simply a pariah there, the _elven_ Herald of Andraste? Well... that might cause some dramatics."

"I thought you liked a little drama?" 

Chuckling, Dorian brought Liadan in close, giving the hand he was holding to lead her an affectionate squeeze. "Oh, I do! However that might be a _little_ more drama than I would be looking for. And lest we forget, your Qunari boyfriend would make things exponentially worse."

" _Not_ my boyfriend."

"Yet," Dorian chided. "He didn't take his eye off of you for a moment upstairs. It was clear as day on his face. He's smitten."

" _He's_ my bodyguard," she said, shrugging. "He's supposed to keep an eye on me."

"Now that's a euphemism if I ever heard one," Dorian said, smirking.

Liadan glared.

Dorian's smirk widened, his teeth flashing in the candlelight. "Ah yes, that whole _he's not interested_ thing again. I would like to point out that at this moment, it looks as though the brute is trying to glare me to death." He nodded his head towards the area behind her. 

Liadan glanced back to see Iron Bull standing with Krem and Hawke. The Qunari's shoulders were tense, his arms crossed against his chest, and his eye was locked on Dorian. 

She turned her attention back to Dorian. "Glare is a strong word. Are you certain he's not watching you because he likes _you_?"

Dorian chuckled, shaking his head. "Dear heart, that only would prove he has good taste. However, he's not my type. Now that Commander—"

Liadan rolled her eyes. " _Everyone_ is well aware of your feelings when it comes to Cullen, Dorian."

"Everyone _save_ our dear Commander himself!" He sighed dramatically. "He also has eyes for a certain Herald."

"Would you stop—"

"Why do you think I'm always around you? You're surrounded by lovely suitors who are constantly vying for your attention. Even if you are completely oblivious to it."

Liadan gave a mock gasp. "And here I thought it was because I'm such great company!"

He considered this for a moment. "Only because my charms have rubbed off on you ever so slightly. I am quite wonderful, after all."

"And humble," Liadan added, giving him a knowing look. The two shared a loud laugh as the dance drew to a close.

Dorian focused on something behind Liadan. His eyes narrowed slightly. "Best prepare yourself. Lady Richelieu has set you in her sights." 

Liadan glanced over her shoulder, and saw Lady Richelieu practically buzzing with excitement as she watched the two of them. Sighing, Liadan shook her head. Lady Richelieu was nice enough, but she had a one track mind. Liadan wondered how much clearer she could spell it out for the Lady that she had no intentions of getting married, to anyone, for a very long time.

Dorian took Liadan's arm and slowly walked her off of the dance floor. "Do you think she wants to be matchmaker for us now?" Dorian asked, snickering. 

"I highly doubt that she would want to orchestrate something that is bound to end in a massive scandal," Liadan said, scoffing. "Could you imagine the Herald of Andraste marrying a Tevinter mage?"

"The scandal is what makes it fun, Liadan," Dorian said, winking as he tapped her mouth lightly with his free pointer finger.

"Oh!" There was an excited voice to their right. "Lord Pavus! Lady Herald!" The two of them turned to see Celeste waving happily to the two of them while being escorted by a stormy Lord desRosier. 

"Ah, dear Lady Celeste," Dorian waved in return, turning his dazzling smile on her. "You looked quite wonderful out there with Lord desRosier. Did the two of you have a good time?"

"It was tolerable," Lord desRosier said grumpily. Celeste's cheeks pinked as her excited expression turned into an embarrassed one. 

"Only tolerable? Well, perhaps I need to show the dear Lady Celeste some more techniques from the Tevinter dance floor?"

Celeste shook her head furiously. "Oh! I couldn't possibly! I'm famished from all the dancing."

The four of them reached the end of the dance floor. Lord desRosier immediately let go of Celeste, his eyes clearly fixed on Liadan. Dorian however, gave Liadan a pat on the arm he was holding, and then brushed a light kiss on her cheek before letting her go and turning to Celeste. "Shall I accompany you to the refreshments, Lady Celeste? I'm a bit peckish myself, and those tiny cakes look like just the thing I want."

Arm in arm, the two were gone before Liadan could even make an argument. Before she could make her own excuse to leave, Lady Richelieu rushed behind them. "Oh, Lord desRosier! Lady Inquisitor! You two were marvelous out there! Simply stunning!"

Turning to face her, Lord desRosier sneered as Lady Richelieu smiled at him. "Thank you, Lady Richelieu," he said, his voice unenthusiastic. "I must admit the Inquisitor's performance exceeded my expectations. I wouldn't have thought you had much time to take dance lessons between fighting off Corypheus' army, but apparently you have."

Liadan bit the inside of her cheek, holding back the rant that was building inside of her. Instead, she managed a small, polite smile. "Yes, well I've had some wonderful teachers help facilitate my learning. My days at Skyhold are very long, and mostly composed of meetings and lessons. If my advisors can combine the two, they do."

Lady Richelieu tittered. "Talking strategies while learning how to spin? Simply scandalous!"

Liadan laughed. "Not yet, Lady Richelieu. Commander Cullen is a bit hesitant when it comes to dancing, much to Ambassador Montilyet's never ending disappointment." She nodded to the small crowd of admirers that Cullen had gathered by the door. "He's very popular with several of our visitors, but alas, he's quite shy."

 _That_ grabbed Lady Richelieu's attention. "Oh! Perhaps he just needs the proper introductions? Should I offer my assistance? Lord desRosier here also sufferers from a bit of shyness—" At his name, Lord desRosier visibly bristled. "But, I was able to help him overcome it, as you can attest, Lady Inquisitor." The Lady looked at Liadan expectantly.

"Oh yes," Liadan said, her smile growing wider. It was obvious the Lady wasn't open to hear anything to counter her. "I would have never guessed..." 

A smile broke out on the older woman's face. "It's settled then! I will offer my services to him immediately!" In a rush of skirts, Lady Richelieu was off on her next mission. 

Liadan couldn't help but chuckle as she watched Lady Richelieu head in Cullen's direction. "Sorry, Commander," she said, to herself quietly as she waved to Cullen. "The Inquisition will remember your sacrifice." Out of the corner of her eye Liadan could see Iron Bull walking towards her. His face was unreadable, but from behind him, Liadan could see Krem with a satisfied grin on his face. Liadan raised an eyebrow as Bull approached. "If you'll excuse me, Lord desRosier—" 

However, Lord desRosier seemed greatly offended by her manners, clearly readying a lecture in his mind. Wanting to hear none of it, she pleasantly smiled at the lord and gave a small curtsy before walking past him over to the Qunari. She looked to Iron Bull with a questioning look. 

"Everything's fine," Iron Bull assured her before she could even ask. "It's just, you know... I don't think it's a good idea for you to be alone with that asshole."

"Well, you're not wrong," she said, grinning. "Although I'm sure that I just broke some Orlesian etiquette by leaving him like that. Not sure if I care all that much at the moment."

Iron Bull laughed. "That's why I like you boss." Liadan ignored the fluttering feeling in her stomach. He didn't mean it in the way it sounded, she knew. But her insides were failing to understand that the Iron Bull was not interested in her. Iron Bull continued, "You're honest to a fault when it comes to noble crap, and it's always entertaining to watch."

"Glad I'm entertaining to you, at least," Liadan drolled, narrowing her eyes at him. "I'm sure to hear about it tomorrow from Josephine." Behind Iron Bull, Liadan saw Hawke and Krem watching them expectantly. She nodded to where they were standing. "So if you've came to chase off Lord desRosier, why are Krem and Hawke staring like they're waiting for us to do something?" 

Iron Bull glanced over his shoulder and let out an annoyed huff. "Yeah... I was hoping you could help me win a bet." 

Raising an eyebrow, Liadan looked questionably at Iron Bull. "Okay?"

"See, Krem doesn't think I actually know my way around an Orlesian dance floor— thinks I'm just making it all up. I was hoping we could maybe... dance the next set together? Help me prove him wrong and wipe that insufferable grin off of his face?"

"Oh," she replied, her shoulders instantly tensing. "I mean, if you want to do that, Leliana would be much better suited to help you. The way Josephine tells it, her skills on the dance floor are unmatched in Val Royeaux."

He frowned disapprovingly as he gave her a long look. "I guess I could..." he demurred. "If I had a death wish."

"There are several dancers here that would make you look much better than I could."

"Maybe," Iron Bull said with a flippant shrug. "But I'd rather dance with the most beautiful person in the room."

 _Don't fall for it_ , she reminded herself. But her body wasn't listening to her head. She could feel her cheeks grow hot, despite her resolve to ignore his flirtations. It took two tries to reply, but finally she could make her mouth work properly. "The most _beautiful_ person in the room?" she scoffed, hoping that Iron Bull wouldn't pick up on how her voice faltered. "That's the best you can do?"

His eye twinkling, Iron Bull let out a low laugh. "Oh... you'd know if it was my best, boss."

"I— I don't deserve such a compliment, Iron Bull."

"Hey— I may have only one eye, but it's a _damn_ good eye, okay, boss?" 

She opened her mouth to argue, but what managed to come out was some sort of hybrid Common and Elven that made no sense to anyone with ears. 

Iron Bull looked at her with an amused smile on his lips. "I wouldn't say it if it wasn't true," he hummed, tucking a stray hair behind her ear with his free hand. "Dance with me?"

Heartbeat pounding loud in her ears, Liadan nodded. He offered his arm properly to her to accompany her to the dance floor. Liadan took it wordlessly, not trusting her ability to speak. As they walked onto the dance floor, the musicians readied themselves for the next set. The caller signaled that the next set to be played would be, of course, the Dance of Six Candles, because Liadan was doomed to make a fool of herself. 

The Dance of Six Candles had two main movements. The first, was a slow minuet dance with only two dancers— and while she had basically learned the steps under Hawke's tutelage, remembering each step along with keeping her toes pointed, still proved to be difficult for Liadan. The second was much faster, and the dance became a group dance, involving all of the dancers on the floor. The steps were easier, however Liadan had yet to dance the second movement in a group, and still had not been able to work up to the speed of the actual dance. 

Iron Bull let go of her arm, and moved into the starting position for the dance. Extending out his arm, Iron Bull gave her an encouraging smile. It was only then that Liadan realized how foolish they must have looked together on the dance floor. Iron Bull towered over her by two heads. And while she was in her elaborate dress, Iron Bull was wearing his usual outfit— his chest bare for everyone to see.

As the first notes of the song began to play, Liadan let out a very long breath. She placed her left hand on top of Iron Bull's right hand.

Iron Bull's eye glittered in the candlelight. "That's right... relax. Dancing goes much better the less you think about it."

Liadan scoffed. "Easier said than done." 

He led her a few steps forward and then back, then both turned face each other. The two moved down the floor. Liadan felt herself being pulled into his lead. The hand that Iron Bull was holding was so warm, despite them barely touching. It shot a spike of heat through her entire body. She swallowed hard and looked down at the floor. As Iron Bull led her to face him, he bent down and whispered into her ear, "It's also easier to look up. Looking at your feet is just going to make you trip, boss." Liadan could feel his smile touching the edge of her ear.

"R-right," Liadan stammered as they both took a step back. She felt her cheeks warm. 

Shifting their feet again, they touched opposite arms, leading into Iron Bull walking around Liadan. Turning her in a gentle spin, Iron Bull stepped behind her and lead her through the next round of steps. 

As they danced, Liadan found herself ignoring the stares of the onlookers. An elf and a Qunari dancing was sure to be a sight, but the longer they danced, the less she cared. 

As the first movement came to a close, Iron Bull slowly lead her into another spin, facing her towards him as the two broke apart before curtsying to one another. He smiled at her and winked with his one eye. 

The lively tune of the second movement began. All the dancers began to move together in a line. Liadan let herself be taken in by the dance's moving parts, trading partners every few steps, and doing a half turn with them. As she danced, she kept an eye on Iron Bull, who was to her right as they made their way through the line. 

When they reached the end of the line, the two were joined together again. Iron Bull took her right hand and spun Liadan around twice before picking her up by the hips and doing a half turn. As she was placed back on the ground, the two took two steps and clapped. Once again they were facing each other in the dance. Iron Bull gently lead her in another spin. As she turned, he encouraged her skirt to lift higher and wider, making the dress sparkle around her.

Iron Bull's attention never wavered. He stared at her intently all throughout the dance, a smile on his lips. It was very easy to lose herself in that smile. It was very... alluring. She felt strange. There was nothing she could put her finger on, but having him so near was definitely having an affect on her. Liadan knew that he had no interest in her, not in that way. But with him so close, it was easy to pretend that he did. And she never wanted the feeling to end. 

She gazed up at Iron Bull's face as they stepped around each other, her heart pounding hard against her chest. She returned the smile.

But as she smiled, Iron Bull's expression became inscrutable. His openness quickly became guarded. He broke eye contact, instead looking towards the crowd around them, watching. Liadan blinked, snapping herself back to reality.

As the song drew to a close, he spun her around once more. For a finishing move he dipped her with a bit of flourish. Around them the other dancers were clapping and showering them with compliments, but Liadan's attention was locked on the Iron Bull and his sudden change of behavior. 

"Pretty sure the dance is over, boss," he said, panting for breath. He was still holding her in the dip, his arms not even sightly wavering. 

Liadan made no attempt to move either. "So it is."

After a moment, Iron Bull eased her back to standing. Liadan could feel her cheeks burning, but she tried to ignore it as best as she could, opting to distract herself with shifting the fabric of her skirts around. There was nothing wrong with them, but she hoped that stalling would give enough time for the awkward atmosphere to disappear.

Thankfully, he took a step away from her. "I can't wait to see the look on Krem's face," he said, as though nothing had happened. "Totally going to be worth it." In her peripheral vision, she saw him offer his arm to her. "Thanks boss."

Trying to gather herself, she let out a quick breath before taking Iron Bull's arm. "Is there anything you're bad at?" They slowly started to make their way off the dance floor. 

Laughing, Iron Bull replied, "Lots. I just manage to hide it well. Ben-Hassrath, remember?"

It was probably the worst thing to say to her at that moment. Lowering her head, she quietly said, "I see..."

"Hey—" He pulled gently on her arm. Liadan looked up to see him staring down at her with a concerned look on his face. "Stop. I just..." Iron Bull glanced over her shoulder, his eye narrowed. " _Crap_. The asshole is back." 

Liadan glanced over and saw Lord desRosier approaching with Josephine following quick on his heels. 

Iron Bull nervously scratched the back of his head. "Well, Josephine is with him. I can leave you alone. You know... if that's what you want." He took a step back, letting go of his hold on her completely. 

"Yeah," Liadan said, swallowing loudly. She instantly missed the heat of his skin. 

Iron Bull crossed his arms against his chest. Once more he inhabited the bodyguard persona, the warm expression on his face long forgotten. He took another step back, distancing himself further away from her. "I'll be right over there if you need me."

Taking a deep breath before turning around, Liadan put on her best smile. "Lord desRosier, I see you found Ambassador Montilyet."

Josephine smiled brightly at Liadan. "Inquisitor, I'm so proud! You managed the dance quite perfectly!" She turned to Lord desRosier, explaining, "We just finished the Dance of Six Candles in our lessons yesterday, Lord desRosier."

"Yes," Liadan said, her cheeks growing hot from embarrassment. "And a tricky dance it is. However, you should give Iron Bull the credit— he managed to get me through it without letting me fall on my face once."

"Ah yes," Lord desRosier said through his teeth. There was a mocking tone in his voice. "That _personal bodyguard_ of yours. I must admit, it was quite impressive to see one of those oxmen move so lightly on their toes."

Josephine gave Liadan a warning glance, before turning back to Lord desRosier, her smile less genuine now. "Um... yes, it was quite a surprise. Although, the Bull's Chargers have spent some time in Orlais and The Iron Bull is quite clever. I'm sure it's one of many skills he picked up while he was in Val Royeaux." 

At this, Lord desRosier huffed. "Indeed," he said, before drinking deeply from the goblet in his hand. He turned a sharp eye to Liadan. "And has he shown you these... skills, Lady Inquisitor?"

"I beg your pardon?" Liadan narrowed her eyes.

Lord desRosier shrugged nonchalantly. "Come now, there's no reason to be coy about it. I've seen the ladies in court throw themselves at any visiting specimens of their kind. It's only natural that you would gravitate to one another. Elves have always had an affliction towards... the unusual." He took another drink from his goblet. 

There was a flash, and suddenly Lord desRosier's breeches were on fire. Liadan cast the spell on pure instinct, rage boiling within. The entire hall filled with Lord desRosier's shrieks as he frantically tried to bat the flames down. The crowd around them gasped as they moved to safety in case more magic was about to fly. There were a few dispersed chuckles in the crowd— probably from those in the inner circle— but most were too shocked to move. Even Josephine hesitated for a moment, before signaling for one of the servants to bring water to douse the fire. 

Liadan, for her part, stood before Lord desRosier. Her fists were clenched by her side as she trembled in anger. As she took a step closer to the lord, she felt a large arm snake around her waist. It pulled her up off the ground, away from the scene she had made. " _Let me go_! I wasn't finished with him!"

Iron Bull grunted. The people around them quickly moved out of Iron Bull's path as he made his way to the her chambers. "No can do, boss. No one likes the smell of burnt noble. It reeks for days."

" _Unhand me,_ " she seethed, wriggling as much as his tight hold on her would allow. She could still feel the rage pulsing in her veins. "Did you hear what he—"

"Yeah, yeah, I heard." Iron Bull used the same tone of voice used for a petulant child. They reached the doorway leading up to her room, Iron Bull used his free arm to slam it open. He adjusted his hold on Liadan, letting out another grunt. "Seriously, boss. He's not worth it. Come on."

Liadan looked over her shoulder and glared at what she could see of Iron Bull. _But you're worth it,_ she wanted to say. However, she couldn't get the words out of her mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter is long. The crazy thing is that I had to move the "final" scene of this chapter into a chapter all on it's own (which will be chapter 6 now ^^;;) because the scene was too long, and it was hard to cut anything. So if you are wondering why the chapter just abruptly ended, that's why! But not to worry, next chapter we'll see Bull's side of things. The entire next chapter is 100% from Bull's POV, and he's got some thoughts on desRosier, the incident, and Liadan asking him to help her out of her dress. No, I'm not kidding. You'll just have to wait and see.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear, I live! So after the last chapter was posted, I started to worry about some plot consistences, so I decided to hold off on posting the next chapter until I was at least finished with the one after that. And as I worked on that chapter, it became clear to me, I needed to just finish the story before I posted anything else. So yes, that means the story is completely finished now. I finished my first draft for NaNoWriMo this year. I still have to go through and edit the chapters, so it will take some time. My goal is to have the rest of the story posted by the end of January. I'm trying to get it done before the New Year, but I'm thinking I might need a bit more time than six days to get through four more chapters. I also went through the posted chapters and made small edits of typos or grammatical errors I found on my re-read, so yay? 
> 
> But for now, the chapter. Finally, the aftermath of desRosier's burning breeches.

1.

"Well, I must admit that was an impressive show," Solas said, an amused smile on his lips.

Bull focused on the boss as she talked to that asshole desRosier. They were close enough that Bull could step in if need be, but far enough away that he couldn't hear their conversation. Especially since Solas had decided to poke his long nose in his business. 

"I'm pretty impressive, Solas. It's about time you noticed," Bull replied. Not wanting to give an inch to the elf, Bull kept watching Lavellan dazzling everyone around her in that stunning dress. 

The elf snorted. "Actually, I was referring to the moment of hesitation in your dance. Would it be rude of me to ask what happened?"

"Not that it would stop you." 

"Could it be that you finally realized that your deception is backfiring on you?"

There was no way Bull was going to let Solas win. He stayed focused on the boss. Josephine was showering her with praise. Lavellan looked uncomfortable, but was dealing with it as well as she could. Whatever the ambassador was saying, didn't seem to impress desRosier at all. Asshole.

"I'm a little busy right now," Bull said, still not diverting his eyes from the boss. "I don't know if you've noticed, but there's a bit of a situation."

"Yes, and I wonder _whose_ fault that is," Solas said sarcastically.

 _That_ grabbed his attention. Bull turned an icy glare on Solas. "And what does _that_ mean?"

"Exactly what you think it does. I wonder if you are _trying_ to make things difficult for her?"

Something was wrong. Bull could feel the change in the air that signaled Lavellan was about to use her magic. He didn't have time for Solas' mind games. He pushed past the elf, trying to get closer to the boss' group. 

He managed to get there just in time to hear desRosier's comment, "I've seen the ladies in court throw themselves at any visiting specimens of their kind. It's only natural that you would gravitate to one another. Elves have always had an affliction towards... the unusual." 

The sight of the Inquisitor dancing with a Qunari must have enraged desRosier quite a bit for him to be so open with his disgust on the very public floor. And while that in itself was interesting, Bull was already moving towards Lavellan to hold her back.

Then desRosier's pants exploded in flames. 

He had to give it to the boss, she did have a good eye for the dramatic. No wonder Dorian and she got along. 

But no matter how much desRosier deserved to have his ass cooked, there was no way Bull was going to let Lavellan make a mistake that she couldn't undo— like kill an Orlesian noble in front of a hall full of other Orlesian nobles. The fact that she was the Herald of Andraste would be forgotten before the body hit the floor.

Instinctively, Bull plucked her up and pulled her away from the scene. He had no plan, but the door to her quarters was the closest, so he headed in that direction.

Thankfully, the nobles who were standing around gawking quickly made a path for him as he pulled the Inquisitor away. What he hadn't expected was her to fight back so much. But if there was anything Bull was extremely good at, it was holding people down. 

" _Unhand me!_ " Her voice roared with an anger Bull hadn't heard in her voice since the night Haven was attacked. He tightened his grip on her, signaling her to stop squirming. She ignored it. "Did you hear what he—"

"Yeah, yeah, I heard," Bull drolled. "Seriously, boss. He's not worth it. Come on." He had told her time and time again that she shouldn't concern herself so much about what others thought of him. Bull didn't give a shit. In fact, it was better for him if they thought him some mindless Qunari. 

She cared far too much and it was going to get them in serious trouble eventually. 

That is, if lighting desRosier's ass on fire didn't already.

Once they reached the door leading up to her rooms, Bull took one more look back at the crowd. Everyone in the hall was watching them. A large circle had formed around where desRosier was still shrieking, trying to beat the flames down, but it looked as if no one was trying to help him. Bull scowled at their audience before opening the door— with a little more force then really needed— and pulling Lavellan over the threshold. 

Then there were the those damn stairs. A squirming Inquisitor fighting him every step of the way made the climb all the more difficult, but they eventually made it to the top. 

When the door to her room was shut behind them, he put Lavellan down. 

Five flights of stairs and she was still trembling.

She glared up at him. He glared right back. 

"I can't believe you did that!" There was fury burning in her eyes as her fists clenched. "You had no right—" She made a move towards the door.

Bull leaned against the door, making sure she couldn't go back down there. "I had _every_ right. It was _me_ he insulted."

" _No_ , you _didn't_. He insulted us _both_ ," she hissed, pushing at his side in an effort to get him to move. 

She was more annoying than effective. " _Hey_ —" Bull waved his arm at her. "Implying that you had sex with me is not an insult!"

"But he _meant_ it as one!" She batted at his arm. He barely felt her connect. "Get out of my way, I'm going back down there—" 

"That's not going to happen, boss," he said, using his free arm to push her away from the door. "I'm not worth it and neither is he."

Lavellan batted at his arm. "I can't believe you! You made me look like a total fool in front of all of those nobles! You can't just pick me up and carry me away like some kind of rag doll—"

"And what was I supposed to do?" Bull shot back. He could hear his own voice becoming slightly testy as well. Why didn't she see that he was trying to help her? "Those nobles are watching you so closely. One tiny reason— that's all they need, boss."

"So it's better for me to lose face in front of all of those nobles?" she said, her voice getting louder. "You undercut my authority! You made a bad situation even worse out there." 

"You lit a guy on fire! The situation was _already_ worse." 

Letting out a loud exasperated sigh, she finally gave up trying to push him out of the way. Instead, she began to pace the room, arms crossed tightly to her chest. As she walked, her dress rustled loudly as the skirts moved to and fro. "I would never do something like that to you in front of the Chargers! Why did you do that to me?"

His stomach sank. Bull backed into the door, the wood groaning under his weight. Lowering his head, he let out a sigh. "Damn. You're right. I—" Groping for the right words, rubbed his forehead with his hand. He _panicked_. Plain and simple. He didn't see any other options, didn't even think about trying to back her up. He just needed to make sure _she_ was _safe_. Some fucking Ben-Hassrath he was. Krem was right. Bull didn't see straight when it came to Lavellan.

With a loud exhale, he shook his head. "I'm sorry, boss. I shouldn't have— _Fuck_." 

She stopped her pacing, giving him an odd look. 

He took a step towards her. "What you did was _batshit insane_ , but you're right. You're the Inquisitor." He took another step, reaching out to put his hand on her shoulder. "You're the boss. Sorry."

Her tense shoulders drooped at his touch. She leaned her body forward, the sound of the fabric of her dress echoed in the room as she collapsed into him. Burying her face in his chest, she took a very deep breath. He could still feel her trembling in anger. " _Tel'abelas,_ " she said quietly. Bull could hear her voice vibrating against his skin.

"People don't make good decisions when they're upset. Although I'd say that applies to the both of us tonight."

She looked up at him. "You? Upset?"

"Fine, _worried_." Slowly, he brought his other arm around her, bringing her in close. "Promise me you won't let them get to you like that," he said, soothingly. "And I promise I'll back you up from now on." He gently moved his hand up and down her back. "But you have to know that there's more than one rumor about who you're currently fucking, boss. _Shit_ , there's more at least one rumor for each of us in the inner circle."

"You _are_ kidding, right?" she said, an eyebrow raised. "I know the Inquisition has been encouraging the rumors about Dorian and I, but, _everyone_?" 

"Well, maybe not Cole," Bull admitted, tilting his head to the side. "But he's only a recent addition to the group. I'm sure there will be soon enough."

" _Shit_ ," she hissed, shaking her head. "Don't these people have anything better to do other than theorize who I'm sleeping with?"

"When it comes to people in power, no."

"And somehow I can't let it get to me?" she asked. 

"Good leaders use it to their advantage."

She turned her head away from his gaze, looking down at the floor. "I'm not—"

"No," Bull said, shaking her. "Don't even try to deny it. You're doing great boss."

Scoffing, she shook her head.

He cupped her face once more, making her look back up at him. "Did you see the look on everyone's face when you came into that hall tonight? You were amazing. You had us all wrapped around your little finger."

"Even though I'm an elf?"

Bull cradled her cheek with his right hand. He even allowed himself a moment to massage the lobe of her ear with his thumb. Leaning closer to her, he spoke as soft as his voice would allow. "Your ears are not a handicap, boss. Let those assholes underestimate you. It works just like Wicked Grace. Take the advantage so you can strike when its least expected."

She chuckled. "Varric says I'm terrible at Wicked Grace."

Bull took her chuckle as a sign of encouragement. Smirking, he said, "You shouldn't play Wicked Grace with dwarves anyway. They have a tendency to kill you if they lose."

She blinked, her expression turning confused. She must have never heard the saying then. "Varric wouldn't—"

Bull shook his head. " _I'll_ teach you how to play properly. Although I've been warned that elves never pay their debts." He genuinely smiled at her peeved expression. She glared at him harder— but it the mood was clearly different then when they had first come into her room. He leaned in closer, and quietly asked, "Are you okay now?"

Letting out a loud sigh, Lavellan shook her head. "So long as Lord desRosier never says another word to me, I'll be fine. I can't promise I'll be able to restrain myself if he does. And I would ask that you stay out of my way if that happens."

"You're talking like he won't have to face the wrath of the rest of your inner circle after what happened tonight," Bull added, smiling at her. "You've got a Tevinter magister as a best friend, a First Enchanter who loves to freeze people, a dwarven merchant who can erase fortunes with the stroke of his pen, a Seeker with a temper, a Grey Warden who puts honor before everything, and a Red Jenny who loves to throw jars of bees at anyone who looks at her the wrong way. And all of them were present when desRosier made an ass of himself. One of those people alone would be a bad person to make your enemy." Chuckling, he shook his head. "Let's just say I don't envy him at all right now. And that's not even including what Red or Cullen would do to him if given the chance. Trust me, desRosier hasn't even begun to realize what a big mistake he's made tonight."

Raising an eyebrow, she tilted her head to the side. "You wouldn't defend my honor along with them?"

Smirking, he shook his head. "I'd be off on the side laughing my ass off watching as he begged for mercy."

Lavellan snorted. "Good to know who's on my side, I suppose."

"I'm always on your side, boss. No question." It came out of his mouth before he realized what he was saying. 

There was a flicker in her eyes. "Are you really?" she asked quietly, staring at him intensely. 

Before he could give any response, her stomach growled loudly. The sound echoed in the room, and it broke the moment was between them.

Bull laughed as he stepped away from her. "I guess you didn't really get the chance to eat down there, did you?"

"No," she said, bashfully turning her head away from him. "And I don't think it'd be a good idea to go back down after that mess either..." 

"I'll go," Bull said, shrugging. "I don't give a shit what some Orlesian nobles think about me." 

Lavellan slowly make her way over to her bed. "I don't know. Maybe we could get some one else to—" 

"It'll be fine," he said. "I'll go down there, get some food, maybe see what the temperature of the room is, and come right back. We can have our own little feast up here."

She still looked unconvinced, but gave a small nod anyway as she sunk into the soft bed, her skirts pooling around her in a sea of blues and purples. 

 

Knowing it was impossible to sneak back into the party without notice, Bull kept to the back wall as much as he could, easing his way over to the food tables. There were a few stares, but most of the guests just nodded politely at him as he passed by. Bull gave them the usual dumb bodyguard smile. 

Krem met him halfway to the tables. "What did you do with Her Worship?" he said through clenched teeth.

"Nothing! She's upstairs, she's fine. I didn't think it'd be a great idea for her to come back into the snake pit, but she's hungry, and so am I, so— food." Bull gestured to the food tables.

"I can't believe that you did that, Chief. Making such a scene—"

" _I_ was trying to make sure things didn't get messy," Bull replied a little too defensively as they reached the food tables. He had already hashed this out with the boss, and he really didn't want to have to do it again with Krem. "I fucked up, but it's fine. The boss and I talked it out." 

" _Talked it out_? Chief—"

Ignoring what was surely a long lecture from Krem, Bull nodded to one of the large serving plates that were almost empty by Krem's elbow holding the mincemeat pies that he knew Lavellan loved. There were five left. "Hand me that plate, would you?"

Krem gave him an incredulous look. When Bull glared in return, Krem handed over the platter, muttering to himself. "Anything else?"

"I'd kill for a good bottle of whiskey," Bull replied as he grabbed what was remaining of the tiny pink cakes. He knew they were Lavellan's favorite. If there was one thing Orlesians were good at, it was making decadent cakes. 

A few pieces of chicken were placed on the platter, along with a loaf of bread. "You're such a child, Chief. You can't take Her Worship only desserts to eat!"

"Why not? They'll make her feel better," Bull reasoned, grabbing two of the last two "Exquisite Misery" cakes. They smelled awful, but Bull didn't mind the taste. 

"And you'll probably make her sick from so many sweets. At least take some _bacheofe_ ," Krem said, gesturing to the small elaborate bowls of stew that had hardly been touched. "It's a good comfort food." He put two bowls on the platter in Bull's hand before he could reply. The plate was full with more than plenty of food for two people, even if one of them was The Iron Bull. 

Bull nodded over his shoulder. "What's the situation down here? Seems pretty tame after someone was lit on fire in front of everyone."

"Everything's under control. Funny thing about the spell Her Worship cast? Normal water wouldn't put it out. Madame de Fer finally put the fire out in the most condescending way possible, and only after she was implored by Sister Nightingale. Shortly after desRosier made his excuses to leave for the night. Ambassador Montilyet chased after him. Honestly Chief, it was the funniest thing I've seen since you wore feathers."

"I told you he was going to be trouble." Bull sighed. "I just hope the we're not completely screwed. We need him for the Winter Palace."

Krem shrugged. "Rot like that? We'd be better off without his help."

"Not if it keeps her alive, Krem," Bull replied more harshly then he had intended.

Krem looked as if he was trying to work something out. After a moment, he nodded to the platter in Bull's hands. "I'll see what I can wrestle from Cabot. Can't promise whiskey, but I'll try."

"Grab some Maraas-lok while you're at it."

Grunting, Krem shook his head. "Just get back up there, you big oaf."

Bull smirked at his lieutenant before making his way back over to the door and up the five flights of stairs. His ankle was protesting loudly about all of the climbing it was having to do. By the time he reached the door to Lavellan's room, he was trying not to limp. The door took some maneuvering to open, but it finally gave way. Steadying the large tray of food, he glanced up the last small flight of stairs, and swore quietly. 

Bull was so sick of stairs.

As he made his way up, he saw the Inquisitor sitting at the hearth, her face turned towards a now roaring fire. Her body was mostly lost in a sea of petticoats, and her corset was still on. It was stark white against her tan skin. The dress pieces had been thrown haphazardly on the bed. She turned at the noise he was making on his way up. 

"Should we have a picnic by the fire?" Bull asked, walking up behind where she sat. 

The boss shook her head. "That's fine," she said, sounding much calmer. She stood up from the fire just as Bull put the platter of food on the floor. "Get me out of this thing, will you?" she said, pulling at the corset. "I can manage everything else, but the bloody knots are tied too tight."

Bull went very still. 

It wasn't as if it wouldn't be the first time he had seen her undress. After all, there was little room for privacy when out camping in a torrential downpour that never ends. Not to mention, Lavellan wasn't exactly shy about her body. The Dalish were more comfortable with their skin than the Southerners, maybe even Qunari. But seeing her naked and helping her get naked were two completely separate things. One was incidental, one was playing an active part. 

He took a slow breath in. 

_She just needs help. Don't make anything of it. Don't—_

"Sure boss," he managed to say in an even voice. Somehow.

She stood up, with her back to him, gesturing to the elaborate system of lacing. "Just cut it off. End my misery. I want to breathe properly again."

Her voice snapped him out of it a little. Bull chuckled, shaking his head at her. "And destroy such fine art? Perish the thought. Boss, if there's one thing I'm good at— it's knots." 

Lavellan made a disapproving hum, which only made Bull chuckle more. "Did you have any trouble down there?" she asked, quietly.

"Surprisingly no." His fingers were far more clumsy than they should have been working with the knots. He inwardly cursed as the cord's slipped from his fingers. "I was sure Red was going to swoop down and kick my ass." 

"She may still, you never know. Leliana likes to strike when you least suspect her."

"Yeah, I've noticed."

Lavellan eyed the platter of food on the floor, and made a surprised noise. "Oh! You brought tiny cakes? And you got the pink ones!" 

When she made to move to grab one, Bull held her still. "Oh no. I know they're your favorite, but wait until I get this off. I don't need Viv also after me because you ruined your pretty dress." He gave the main tie a tug. She let out a satisfying gasp of air as the corset tightened. 

And then Bull had to once again remind himself what he was doing. _She just needs help getting the corset off (heh... get off). Don't be an asshole Bull, you've fucked up enough tonight._

He cleared his throat. "It looks like the party has gone back into full swing from what I could see. Although desRosier left, with Josephine chasing him. Krem said it was a sight." He managed to get the main tie at the middle of her back undone. There was an instant give in her corset. 

Lavellan let out a relieved sigh. " _Air_ ," she said, taking in a deep breath. "I can breathe finally." Bull continued to pull on the chords, loosing them as he moved up her back. "I may have been running what happened down there in my mind over and over again while you were gone."

"Did that help with anything?"

Her shoulders sank. "Not a bit. Just made me realize how bad things probably looked," she added with a glare over her shoulder.

Bull was grateful for the distraction. The less he was thinking about chords and knots and Lavellan, the better. " _I_ wasn't the one who lit desRosier on fire."

She buried her head in her hands. "Ulgh, this is a mess. Josephine is going to kill me. And then probably you."

"Nah. Now the nobles will have something to gossip about for months. We did her a favor."

"I doubt she'll see it that way," she grumbled into her hands. "After all of those lessons... I played right into Lord desRosier's taunts."

Bull hummed. "I wouldn't beat yourself up too much about it. It's done. What's more important now is how you move forward. Dwelling on it will only be a sign of weakness to those watching." He pulled the last section of the corset's ties lose. "And whatever you decide, I'll be there with you like I promised." He held the garment in place, letting Lavellan have a chance to grab it before he got a free show. He'd leave it up to her on how she wanted to proceed.

"Thank you," she said. 

Bull wasn't sure what part she was thanking him for.

There was a loud knock at the door. The boss jumped in surprise. Bull put a reassuring hand up. "It's just Krem. He said he was going to try to find something for us to drink. I'll get it. You go ahead and get changed." 

Bull walked slowly down the stairs to the door, his ankle aching with each step. When he opened the door, Krem was waiting with a large bottle of an smoky amber liquid. The lieutenant handed it over to him with a nod. "Cabot heard about what happened. Handed me this without me even having to ask. It's from the Her Worship's stores." 

It was a bottle of Mackay's Epic Single Malt. Bull could have kissed Krem. But knowing he'd probably get a punch for it, Bull kissed the bottle instead. "I hope Cabot doesn't want it back, because I'm definitely keeping it. Do you know how expensive this shit is?"

Krem rolled his eyes. "I'd be willing to guess pretty expensive by the looks Rocky was giving me." He made a show of crossing his arms against his chest. "By the way, Sister Nightingale pulled me aside on my way up here."

"I'm guessing she didn't want to dance."

"Seeing as it took everything I had not to shit myself under that death glare of hers, no— she did not. She wanted to know if Her Worship was coming back down."

Scratching the back of his neck, Bull let out a short laugh. "Yeah... she's out of her dress, so I really doubt it."

Krem's eyes grew wide as his mouth gaped open. " _Well done_ , Chief!"

Bull made an impatient noise. "It's not what you think, Krem."

"I told you you'd sweep her off her feet." The knowing smile on Krem's face only grew wider. "It's about time you two finally decided to stop being idiots."

"I'm just going to close this door in your face now."

"Right, well—" Krem winked. "I'll leave you to it. Enjoy your romantic dinner for two." 

Glaring at his lieutenant, Bull grunted. "I really hate you sometimes." Bull slammed the door shut, ignoring Krem laughing loudly on the other side.

"I'll try to buy some time before Sister Nightingale descends with her claws out," Krem called through the door, still clearly laughing at Bull.

Muttering to himself Bull pulled the cork out of the whiskey and took a deep drink from it. 

He was way too sober to deal with such bullshit. 

When Bull reached the top of the stairs, Lavellan was searching for something in the bookcases behind her desk, a tiny pink cake sticking out of her mouth. She was dressed in one of the sleeping gowns with deep blue robe on top of it. There were golden stitchings that were clearly Dalish in origin covering the robe. The blue worked well with her light blond hair, and suddenly Vivienne's choice of color for the Inquisitor's dress made sense. 

Bull shook his head in mock disapproval. "Couldn't even wait, huh?"

"I've been eying them all night," she replied without looking up from whatever she was doing. "You have no idea what a torture it was."

He sat himself in front of the hearth with a loud, weary sigh. The pain in his ankle was downright stabbing him now. "I promised Krem that you would eat some real food too, so come on," he said, moving his leg closer to the warm fire. Undoing the brace on his ankle, he started to massage the tense muscle with his left hand while taking one of the pink cakes himself in the right hand.

"Ah!" she exclaimed, pulling a small box from one of the bookshelves. "I found them!"

He gave her a quizzical look as she joined him by the hearth. "Found what?"

"These!" she said, shaking a box of Wicked Grace cards in his face. "Leliana gave them to me after Varric taught me how to play. She said to always play with my deck, and not his."

Laughing, Bull took the box from her and started to examine the cards. "Yeah, I'm not sure I'd trust Varric enough not to play with three or four extra cards in the deck either." She batted her big eyes at him, and Bull felt the trap set. "What?"

"You said you would teach me," she said with a small smile.

"Now? Can't we eat first? You're hungry, I'm hungry..."

Lavellan sat down beside him with a chuckle. "I can't argue with that, I suppose."

They ate their food while Bull entertained her with stories of the Charger's exploits. She scarfed down the stew like she hadn't eaten in days. Bull had to admit, Krem was right— the _bacheofe_ did hit the spot. The whiskey was a good partner in flavor. And it was damn good whiskey. 

As Bull finished his story about the noble who had hired them to go giant hunting, Lavellan soaked up the last remnants of her stew with a piece of bread torn from the loaf. "You know, boss," Bull said, looking pointedly down at the loaf of bread she tore the pieces from. "I thought Josephine was teaching you table manners? There is a knife sitting next to the bread for a _reason_."

"Oh, it's just the two of us here. Besides, it tastes better torn off," she defended, stuffing the soaked bit of bread into her mouth.

"And they call me a savage," Bull said chuckling as he reached down for the loaf of bread. He tore himself a piece off of the loaf. 

"You hypocrite!" Lavellan swatted him on the arm, laughing.

Bull joined her, the laugh shaking his entire body. As he did so, he must have moved his leg, because his ankle protested with a sharp stab of pain. Bull hissed, bringing his hand down to massage it. 

But Lavellan's hand was there first. Bull looked up to see her giving him a sympathetic smile. "Is it your ankle again?" 

Nodding, Bull shrugged his shoulders. "Its hurt worse. But cold and stairs don't mix well. Plus I had to dance with a girl to save her from some asshole."

"And I'm sure that girl is thankful for your sacrifice," she said with a wry smirk on her lips. 

What he didn't tell her was that it was completely worth it.

Gesturing to himself, Bull scoffed. "Of course she was. Look at this! Who wouldn't want to dance with The Iron Bull?" She laughed then, and Bull could feel his insides flip. And then immediately kicked himself mentally for letting himself react in such a way. He was The Iron _Fucking_ Bull. He did not get gooey over a girl laughing at his jokes, even if it was the Inquisitor. 

The whiskey must have been effecting him more than he thought. 

She bit her bottom lip in thought. "Can I—" she hesitated, "I mean, I can try to ease it if you want?"

It was not the first time she had offered to help him with the ankle pain. It wasn't that Bull didn't trust her— he just didn't trust the magic. Spending an entire life in the Qun would do that. It was an old injury, and he knew how to deal with it. Stitches would whip him something up when it got really bad, and he'd be good as new in a few days. 

Her large green eyes were staring at him expectantly, and Bull felt his defenses lower. "Okay, I guess... just... you know, don't turn me into a toad or anything."

Lavellan smirked as she cupped his sore ankle with her hands. "If I were to transform you into anything, I'd make sure it was a dragon."

"Holy shit, you can do that?"

She crinkled her nose at him. "Of course not! The Dalish do know some transfiguration spells, but nothing so big as a dragon. At one time, _maybe_ , but that magic has been lost to us." She started to examine his ankle closely. 

"Shame," Bull said, shaking his head. She snorted at him as she continued to focused on his ankle. 

He watched her face as she worked, knowing if he watched the magic summon from her hands, he'd lose his nerve. Her fingers ghosted over his skin. When she reached the worst of it, Bull let himself flinch to signal that was where she needed to work. Letting himself show a bit of weakness to her was easier than he thought it would be. 

Biting her bottom lip, she closed her eyes and started her spell. At first, a light touch of cold, followed by an absorbing heat. The muscles surrounding the ankle slowly relaxed. The warmth from the spell radiated up his leg into his entire body. It felt like her arms were wrapped around him once more and it felt... great. More that great. He felt better than he had in years. 

But all too soon, it was gone. The feeling vanished as the spell finished.

She let out a soft sigh and opened her eyes. "How's that?"

"Much better. Thanks, boss," he said quietly. 

Smiling at him, she shook her head. "It can't be that much better. I could feel the substantial damage to the area. But with a steady course of healing treatments, you might—"

"Nah, I'm good. It's an old injury. It'd be weird if it suddenly wasn't there." Bull took a deep drink from the whiskey. A steady course of treatments would get him addicted to that warm feeling before he knew it. 

Bull made a show of grabbing the box of cards to signal that he wanted to change the subject. He took the cards out of the box and slowly started to shuffle them. "So Varric thinks you're crap at this game, huh?"

Lavellan chuckled as she moved away from him. " _Absolute_ crap, apparently. Leliana barred me from playing any more games that involve Varric and money until my skills vastly improved. I think she was worried about the Inquisition's shallow coffers, and Varric's endless pockets." 

Snorting in amusement, he started to deal the cards between them, five for each. "Well, let's just see how terrible you are then."

She was completely hopeless. 

It wasn't that she didn't understand how to play Wicked Grace, but her hand was written all over her face. All someone had to do was watch. Her eyes lit up when she had a good card. When she was close to making a set, she nibbled worryingly on the side of her mouth. 

Apparently _no one_ , despite all the lessons she was being forced to take, had properly taught her how to school her expressions. He made a mental note to have a conversation with Josephine, because how could she be helping Lavellan get ready for the Winter Palace and _not_ go over some basic subterfuge techniques? Or did they expect those crap Orlesian masks to cover to protect her? _Amateurs._

After two hands, Bull let out a deep sigh. "Right. Well, I can see how Varric's been cleaning you out."

Lavellan threw her hand onto the discard pile. "I'm no good at slight of hand, and cheating is part of the game..."

"You not cheating is the _least_ of your problems, boss," Bull said shaking his head. "You have so many tells, I don't even know where to begin."

"I do not!" 

Bull chuckled as he grabbed the knife on the platter. "You really do. Look, why don't we start small?" he said, cutting the two Exquisite Misery cakes into four pieces each. "Every time I can guess what type of card you pull, you have to eat a piece of this cake. Think of it as a type of punishment."

"All right?" She said, a confused look on her face. "Why is getting a cake punishment? Seems more like a reward to me."

"Oh really?" He cut each of the fourths in half, and popped one into her mouth before she realized what was happening. Lavellan's face quickly turned dour as she chewed. 

"Still think it's a reward?" Bull asked, smirking. 

" _Ulgh!_ What _is_ this?" 

"Deep mushroom and anise. They call it Exquisite Misery, and it's a delicacy in Orlais." Bull took one of the small pieces for himself and popped it into his own mouth.

Lavellan made a face of disgust. "You _willingly_ eat it?"

He grinned. "Clearly I have a more refined palete than you do. And far better table manners." She stuck her tongue out at him, only making Bull's grin grow wider. "So, ready to try another hand? You deal this time."

By the first round of drawing cards, Bull shook his head. "You matched one of your suits," he said, clicking his tongue. "Go on," he said, motioning towards the cakes. 

"How did you even—" 

Bull gave her a light flick on the forehead. "Your flare your nostrils when you get a strong match. You need to keep your face as neutral as possible."

Pouting her lips, Lavellan scoffed. "I could have been tricking you!" 

He laughed hard at that. "You are a long ways off from being able to trick me, boss. Let's just get you to master not reacting to your cards before we talk about giving mixed signals, okay? Now eat your punishment, or should I think of something worse?"

Lavellan quickly shoved the smallest piece in her mouth. Her entire face looked pained as she swallowed it. " _Ulgh_. It's even worse the second bite! I definitely question your _refined palete_."

"Sorry, who between the two of us drinks Abyssal Peach?"

"You're just jealous because I wouldn't share it," she shot back, taking a deep swig of her whiskey. "Deal the next round."

Bull wasn't sure how long he ended up staying there playing Wicked Grace with her. There were only two pieces left of the Exquisite Misery. After her last forfeit, Lavellan became determined to not have to eat anymore. She was still losing every hand, but at least her major tells were under control. 

Between the two of them, they finished the bottle of whiskey. By then they were both warm, tipsy, and feeling the length of the day. Seeing the boss' eyes droop heavy with sleep, Bull cleared his throat. "It's getting late, boss."

Lavellan smirked at him. "Just as I get a hang of the game. I see how it is."

"You haven't won a single game yet!"

"Right, but I _could_! So you make your escape before I have my chance!"

Rolling his eyes, he humored her. "Whatever you say, boss. You can manage to get yourself ready for bed without help, right?" he said smirking. "Because I _can_ help..." It was an empty flirt that normally he probably wouldn't have said after just putting together whatever they had again, but he was feeling the whiskey sit warm in his belly. 

"I'm not the one who drank most of this, Bull," Lavellan replied, shaking the empty bottle in his face. She probably didn't realize that her words were a bit slurred, but Bull wasn't going to push it. She looked more relaxed than he had seen her in months, even if her cheeks were a few shades pinker than normal. 

"Just go straight to bed. No bath, alright? It'd be a headache in the morning trying to explain to the Seeker if you drowned."

"Would that be before or after she skinned you alive?" she said, a smile tugging at her lips. 

Bull let out a loud laugh. "Hopefully, before. Maybe I'd be able to talk her out of it. It worked for Varric."

"You'd also have to break the news to Cullen. Now _that_ would be an interesting conversation."

Pressing his lips together, Bull shook his head incredulously. "And here I thought you were merciful. That's cold, boss." Placing his hand on her head, he used her as a prop to help him stand. Of course, he was careful to not actually put a lot of weight on her head. He was drunk, not stupid. 

As he pulled his hand away from her head, Lavellan grabbed it. Her touch was warm. And if he wasn't mistaken, he could feel her magic seeping through his muscles again. 

"I enjoyed dancing with you tonight, _Vhenan_ ," she said, her eyes shining as she looked at him. 

Bull didn't have the slightest idea what _Vhenan_ meant, but the word rolled off of her tongue in the most wonderful way. It was like she had cast another spell on him, making his entire body ache— and not in pain.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realized that he could just ask Dalish what it meant. Not that he would. It would ruin it, he knew it would. It was something probably mundane, like _friend_ or _bodyguard_.

He helped her to her feet, giving her a moment to steady herself. "Anytime, boss," he said quietly. "It's what I'm here for." She was so close. He could smell the oils that no doubt Dorian had applied lavishly. Dawn lotus with a streak of clove. A sharp spice cloaked in an innocent looking flower— and wasn't that just fucking her all over? Leave it to Dorian to make sure even her perfume had symbolism. 

It took Bull a moment to remind himself what he was doing. Yes, his original intentions had been to seduce her to achieve what Red wanted done— but the thought of doing that now, all to win the stupid bullshit bet he made with Solas, made him feel like a giant asshole. 

But _was it_ a seduction if she was willingly moving towards him? Looking at him with those beautiful green eyes shinning in the firelight, the want clear on her face... 

No, he was drunk. And she definitely was. 

It was a terrible idea.

Bull forced himself to stop looking at her lips, and looked into her eyes instead. They were hooded, watching him expectantly. She inched herself closer, and so did he. Cupping her face with his large hand, he said, "I should..."

"You should?" she asked breathlessly. 

It was the _worst_ idea, but damnit, maybe just once... 

He moved in closer, leaning his head against her forehead as her eyes fluttered closed. 

Just as his lips were about to press against hers, she asked, "Does this mean we're not friends?"

Bull froze.

Bitting her lip, Lavellan opened her eyes. The hesitation in her expression was clear. "I remember you saying that Qunari don't have romantic feelings towards friends, so I just wanted to know what this is...?" She licked her lips, looking up at him expectantly. "Because you are a dear friend. But... I want us to be _more_ , Vhenan."

It took everything in him to not run away. 

This was not what he had planned, not even remotely. 

He wasn't kidding when he had told Krem that things weren't like this. At least Bull _thought_ they weren't. 

So why did it feel as if his entire world crashed with her question? Of course they were friends. _Qunari love our friends like anyone does, but we don't have sex with them._ He had said that with his own damn mouth. Back when she was a mark, a means, to help Thedas, and to get one up on Solas. 

But now things were different. 

She was slowly becoming one of the most important people in his life— and that was terrifying to admit, but damn if it wasn't true. 

There she was, waiting for him. And he couldn't move. 

Why was he hesitating? If she were any other person, their small-clothes would already be on the floor. He was the Iron _Fucking_ Bull, after all. But the careless bet hung around his neck like an anchor.

His lips wavered next to hers. "I don't know..." he said, his voice softer than he had intended. He wasn't sure if it was an answer to her question, his own, or both.

"Then what _are_ we doing?" she added in a whisper, tracing his left cheek with her tiny hand. "When you're close to me, I get so confused and I—"

Before she could finish that thought, Bull pulled her hand away from his face and he took a slow step backward. "I should get going, boss."

Her face fell. "Oh..."

Shit, she wasn't supposed to look that disappointed. She was his mark, yes, but she _had_ to know that any affections they shared were fleeting. She had to know. Couldn't she see how this was a terrible idea? And the guilt wrecking havoc on his insides wasn't supposed to be there at all.

Krem was right— he had a huge blind spot when it came to her. Bull never saw _this_ coming at all.

He had to leave before he really screwed things up. 

"Get some rest," Bull said, keeping his voice steady as he could. He purposefully looked anywhere but at the pitiful expression on her face. "I'll see you in the morning?" Bull backed away, going towards the stairs as quickly as he could without looking like he was getting the fuck out of there. If he stayed, he wouldn't be able to stop himself again.

"Right," she whispered, her voice shaking. "Right," she repeated, turning away from him with a nod. "I'm... sorry if I—" Her voice was wavering. Crap, she wasn't crying, was she? Lavellan cleared her throat, and said a strained, "Good night, Iron Bull."

Bull took one last look at her and his heart sank. He didn't reach out to her. He couldn't— not after that. "Yeah," he said quietly. "Night, boss." He got out of the room as fast as his feet would carry him. 

"Fuck. Fuck. _Fuck_ ," he muttered under his breath as he went. She had tried to kiss him, and he had pushed her away. He blew her off. Fuck, _fuck_ , why did he turn her down?

The five flights of stairs went past him in a blur this time, his ankle not bothering him in the slightest.

This wasn't how things where supposed to go, damnit.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year everyone! I'm getting over a terrible cold, but I managed to get another chapter revised during my convalesce. Direct quotes from DAI are used more often than normal in this chapter, although were given a spin to fit into the story. This chapter has my favorite Vivienne interaction of the story She's so much fun to write when Liadan and Bull are being romantically dense.

1.

" _Liadan_." Dorian's voice broke her out of her daze. 

"Hmm?" She barely slept the night before. Instead she laid in bed staring at the ceiling— replaying what happened between her and Iron Bull over and over again. By the time the sun started to shine through her room windows, she was drowning in regret. Not to mention the pounding headache from the Mackay's Epic Single Malt.

However, the hangover and the dark circles under her eyes were not enough to stop Dorian from dragging her down to the garden for a late morning game of chess. 

"Well, that only took three tries." Dorian shook his head. As he moved his tower piece forward, he let out a loud chortle. "You know one of these days, you're going to have to tell me where your mind goes when you get that lost look in your eyes."

She looked up to see that Dorian was looking at her, clearly waiting for a response to a question she definitely didn't hear. Abashed, Liadan hid her face in her hands. "Oh Dorian, I don't know what to do."

"That much is clear," Dorian huffed, leaning back in his chair. "I've cleaned your clock three times already today, and I haven't even had to cheat." He took a deep drink from his wine glass. "What's bothering you, dear heart?"

Slowly bringing her hands down from her face, Liadan looked to the chessboard in front of them and winced. She was going to lose this game as well. Pushing one of her pawns forward, she planted her right arm on the table and leaned on her hand. "Can you tell me something, honestly?"

"Well _that_ sounds ominous," he said with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood. When Dorian saw the serious look on Liadan's face, he considered for a moment. "That depends, I suppose," he said, before taking another sip from his wine glass.

"Do you think I'm kissable?" 

Dorian promptly choked on his drink, breaking into a storm of coughs. 

Liadan leapt from her chair and rushed to his side. When she tried to pat him on the back, Dorian waved her away. "Don't fuss!" he said between coughs. He pointed to the wine bottle. She quickly poured some more into his glass. Dorian took another drink, trying to clear his throat while Liadan hovered over him, ready to step in with a healing spell if needed. Dorian let out a long breath, " _Festis bei umo canavarum_ ," he muttered to himself, slamming the wine glass on the table. The glass rung with the force of his hand. 

"Sorry," Liadan stammered. "Do you want me to get you some water?"

"No," Dorian said, clearing his throat. "No, I'm fine." He made a show of dusting of his clothes and straightening himself out. 

Liadan slowly returned to her seat, a guilty look on her face. "So I take your answer to my initial question is no, then?"

Burying his head in his hands, Dorian shook his head. " _Vishante kaffas_ , did I _say that_?" he asked, bringing his hands away from his face. "You just can't ask a question like that without warning, Liadan." 

Frowning at him, she asked, "And what would be the proper way to bring that into conversation?" 

"I doubt there is one," Dorian said, still trying to recover from breathing in the wine. He cleared his throat loudly. "It's about as subtle as a Chantry sister dancing in the town square wearing nothing but that awful hat."

"I'm _serious_ , Dorian."

"And you don't think I am?" he asked, making a show of putting his hand on his heart. "Honestly, Liadan— you're like a sister to me! I couldn't think of you that way, even if I wanted to."

She turned her head to the side, facing the garden instead of Dorian. She could feel her cheeks flush of embarrassment. "Seems that you're not the only one."

" _Oh_?" Dorian said. Liadan could just hear the smirk in his voice. "So something _did_ happen with Iron Bull—"

" _No,_ " she corrected, turning her attention back to the game. She moved her knight to take Dorian's pawn. Although it was clearly a losing battle. Perhaps on the next round she'd have enough concentration to stop his cheating. " _Nothing happened._ Which is the problem I suppose." 

Dorian gave a satisfied hum as he took his turn. "How far you've come in so little time. And to think— just last night you were insisting that he wasn't your boyfriend."

" _He's not_ ," Liadan said quickly. She could feel her face heating up. "Nor do I think he's really interested. Last night was proof enough of that."

Iron Bull ran away from her like he'd been the one she set on fire. Their relationship, or whatever it could be called, was probably irrevocably damaged beyond all repair, if she had to guess by the surprised expression on Bull's face. 

"You realize you can't keep leading me on like this," Dorian said, shaking his head. With a last glance at the board, he smirked at her. "You need to give me at least some of the details, or I won't be able to help you. Although I would ask that you spare my sensitive sensibilities. I do _not_ want visions of a naked Qunari haunting my dreams tonight."

Liadan let out a resigned sigh, wanting to very much at the moment wipe that smirk off his face. "No naked Qunari were involved. We were alone up there," she said, waving it off. "But it wasn't what you think— we _fought_. He made a complete mess of things when he just dragged me out of there last night, and I was furious at him."

"Well you _did_ light desRosier on fire. Which, by the way, I don't think I've properly thanked you for, so— _thank you_. It was the funniest thing I've seen in weeks. Energized an otherwise _boring_ party within a few seconds. But I understand why he used the most expedient way to end the disagreement between you and desRosier. Not that I agree with his technique, but—"

Pointedly ignoring him, Liadan tried to regain the reins of the conversation by pushing on. "There was quite a bit of shouting on my part. But he was calm and listened to me. And he eventually apologized for what he did. Which _was_ very surprising." Dorian raised an eyebrow at that. "Then he brought food for the two of us. We sat by the fire and ate. There were even the pink tiny cakes! But, his ankle was bothering him, so I healed it for him."

"Is that so?" Dorian's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Odd, I don't think he's ever willingly let any of us heal him with magic before. It's almost as if he _likes you_." He rolled his eyes. 

"But he—"

" _Liadan_." Dorian put his glass down on the table. "If you say that he's not interested one more time, I am leaving. We all saw your little dance last night. You can't fool me."

Clenching her teeth, Liadan shot back, "But I know he's not!"

"Lia—"

"He didn't want to kiss me, alright? I moved in to kiss him, but he backed away and left! So _yes_ , I know he's not interested."

The look of shock on Dorian's face was almost worth the embarrassment of reliving what happened the previous night all over again. _Almost_. "I—" He blinked several times. " _Really_? The Iron Bull turned _you_ down?" 

Her face buried in her hands, Liadan nodded. "Ever since we got back from Crestwood, _everyone_ has been telling me how obvious his affections were. And when Iron Bull and I danced last night, I felt something spark between us." Liadan tried to take herself back to that moment. How warm his hands felt. How her stomach fluttered when she looked into his eye. "So I took a chance and I—" She sighed. 

_Vhenan_ had slipped out of her mouth before she knew it. Thank the creators Iron Bull didn't know what it meant. After what happened, she wouldn't be able to face him if he had. 

"Ah," Dorian said sagely. "So you _do_ like him. After all of that denial."

She nodded shallowly. "I really think I do." She just didn't realize that her feelings had already grown that deep. Bull had been there, ever since Crestwood. Helping her, supporting her, encouraging her— with her attachment to him growing ever deeper as he did. Dragging her hands down her face, she looked up to the blue sky. "But I ruined it, Dorian. Before anything even began, I ruined it."

"Dear heart," Dorian said gently, reaching across the board to take her hand in his. "You didn't ruin a damn thing. If the boar can't see how wonderful you are, then he's far more daft than I thought. Perhaps you caught him off guard? Or—" 

Liadan shook her head. "No, he—" she hesitated. She thought of his hand cradling her face, how warm his touch had been. But how quickly he had pulled away from her when she tried to put a word to it. She berated him for not backing her up. Wasn't fraternization just as terrible? "He's not interested. He made it clear. Last night was a complete disaster on all accounts. We need to just move on, and focus on the Winter Palace. With no more distractions until it's over." 

And she just wouldn't think about it anymore. She wouldn't be able to escape Iron Bull within Skyhold's walls, but if she just focused on getting ready for the Winter Palace and stopped listening to the inane gossip, it would be fine. _She_ would be fine. It was _lathbora viran_ , plain and simple. But she would get over it. The heartsick feeling would eventually fade. It had to. If she just—

Rolling his eyes, Dorian leaned his head on his hand. 

" _Yes_ , because burying yourself in work and ignoring your problems always fixes things. Why hadn't I thought of that? No wonder they put you in charge."

Liadan glared.

Despite playing annoyed, Liadan knew how Dorian became sardonic when he really cared about something. 

"And what about poor Lord desRosier? Do you know if he's been brave enough to show his face in polite society this morning?"

Sighing, Liadan shook her head. "I doubt it. Although the moment he does, I know Josephine is going to descend upon me to make amends with him. I really don't want to apologize to him, but we have to resolve this somehow."

"You could always marry him." Dorian's smirk was out of control. "I'm sure that would resolve things."

"You do know that your sarcasm doesn't actually help in these situations, right?" she said, shaking her head. "I'm looking for actual solutions."

"Oh I don't know. It sounded like a solution to me. And it would make Leliana and Josephine terribly happy. Not to mention, it would make this whole business at the Winter Palace so much easier." The next move he took on the board put her king in check, and she could see the checkmate looming in the form of Dorian's queen. "But since that isn't an option, why don't we consider what _can_ be done."

Pushing her hands against her forehead, Liadan willed her hangover to give her some peace. It didn't work. "And that is?"

"Well, you could offer some sort of gift as an apology. Perhaps a place within the Inquisition?"

" _Out_ of the question," Liadan said through gritted teeth. "I will not have him anywhere near Skyhold any longer than necessary." She moved her last mage in an attempt to block her loss. 

But it didn't matter. Dorian captured her mage and she was in checkmate. A smug grin on his face, Dorian settled down in his chair. "Then, perhaps a different kind of offer?"

"With _what_ money? The Inquisition's coffers are hardly—"

Dorian leaned towards her. "I wasn't talking about money precisely..."

 

2.

Bull opted to stay in bed late. He'd had worse mornings in his life, but not many. While it felt good going down the night before, drinking most of the bottle of Mackay's Epic Single Malt led to a very painful morning hangover. But a persistent sun ray continued to shine in his face, reminding him that yes, it was morning, and he would have to face the day at some point. After an hour or so of fighting the sunlight shinning right in his face, he managed to get up.

The Herald's Rest was already preparing lunch if the smells wafting into his room were any indication. Bull grumbled to himself as he pulled on his eyepatch and pants. "Shit," he muttered, grabbing his head. The whiskey was still making itself be known. The night before was a bit of a blur— he remembered the boss in that amazing dress, casting a spell over everyone who looked at her. They had danced because of the bet that Krem still owed him money on. And then—

As Bull finished putting on his boots, there was an urgent sounding knock on his door. "Chief?" Krem's voice called. 

"Gimmie a second," Bull hollered back as he stood up from his bed. As he walked towards the door, he realized that his bad ankle was hurting much less than usual. Bull's mind flashed to Lavellan's hands around his ankle— the warmth permeating through his body. "Fuck," he said as he kneaded his forehead with his left hand, and unlocked the door with his right. 

Krem didn't even wait for Bull to open the door. At the sound of the lock clicking, Krem opened the door, bumping the side of the door into Bull's already pounding head. 

" _Fuck_ ," Bull hissed, taking a step back. "Damnit Krem! You trying to make my life even more miserable?"

His lieutenant glared, showing absolutely no remorse. "You'll get no pity from me," he said. Krem stomped into Bull's small room. He was either purposefully making a lot of noise, or Bull's hangover was even worse than he thought. Krem turned to Bull, his right eyebrow twitching in annoyance. "I've been scrambling all morning because of you. People keep coming up to me, wanting to know details about you and Her Worship. Details that I'd rather not picture, much less answer."

Bull grunted. "It can't be that bad, Krem."

"You have no idea how perverted some of the visiting nobles are," Krem said with a huff. "The second they get a whiff of a potential scandal, they want to know _everything_ — damn vultures. And I hold Her Worship in too high of regard to have to answer what sexual positions she prefers when she's with a Qunari." 

In a normal situation, that would have made Bull laugh. After all, he wasn't normally shy about what took place in his bedroom, no matter who visited it. But when it came to Lavellan, any boasting felt wrong. Instead, he felt like he had been punched in the stomach. 

But he had an image to maintain, so he at least managed a smirk. "Well that was fast. But can you blame them?" he said, gesturing down at his body. "Who wouldn't want to know how someone rides The Bull?"

Krem stared. "Chief?" he asked, looking downright surprised. 

Of course Krem wasn't fooled by the lie. His lieutenant knew him too well. 

Letting people get too close was clearly becoming a problem. 

Bull pushed passed Krem and walked out of his room and into the Herald's Rest. "I'm getting food," he grunted. And alcohol, if he had anything to do with it. Drinks would definitely help the pounding in his temples and help him sort out this damn mess he found himself in. He was sure of it.

"Chief!" Krem followed on his heels.

"It's nothing you can help with, Krem," Bull said, annoyance creeping into his voice. "But you'll be glad to know that you probably won't _be_ subjected to questions about me and the boss' sexual preferences for long."

" _What?_ " Pushing ahead of Bull, Krem blocked Bull's path just as they reached the second floor of the pub. "What did you do?"

Bull rolled his eye. "Have you ever considered that not _everything_ is my fault, Aclassi?" 

"But it usually is." Krem stood his ground, crossing his arms against his chest and glaring. "You two were alone in her room. Five flights above us all. And, according to you, she wasn't wearing any clothes."

"She took off her dress," Bull corrected. "That doesn't mean—"

Krem continued to talk, ignoring Bull. "Knowing what I know about you, and also knowing how much she's been mooning over you for weeks, unless a bloody demon appeared in her room, I find it very hard to believe that the two of you didn't... work things out."

" _Mooning over_ — what are you even talking about?" Bull pushed his lieutenant out of the way, muttering under his breath about crazy Vints. He made his way down to the first floor of the Herald's Rest. 

Already people were starting to trickle into the pub for lunch. Maryden was in her usual spot, tuning her lute as she prepped to play for the customers. As they came down the stairs, Krem's head swerved in Maryden's direction for a moment. 

Bull took the opportunity to sit down at his normal chair on the far side of the pub while Krem was distracted. When the lieutenant looked back to where Bull had been standing, he did a double take. Bull bit back a laugh as he watched. 

After a moment, however, he spotted Bull. Krem walked over, still glaring. "I told you before, you have a blind spot when it comes to Her Worship. She watches you a lot. And I do mean _a lot_ , Chief. More then you watch her, which is saying something, because you're both bloody idiots who can't see what's right in front of them." 

"Really, Krem—"

"I can't help but wonder if that eye of yours is any good," Krem said, shaking his head. "Her Worship looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky just for her. Did you not pay attention when the two of you were dancing? Corypheus himself could have come into Skyhold, and she wouldn't have even noticed!"

" _I know_ ," Bull said, letting out a frustrated growl. "I was there. But—"

Krem slammed his hands on the wooden armrests of Bull's chair, effectively trapping him in the seat. "She _likes_ you, you big oaf! Do you have—" Bull's words slowly sunk into Krem's brain, and the fierce expression on his face gave way to one of confusion. "Wait. _You know_?" 

"Does it matter?" Bull said, shaking his head. "It's not going to change anything."

"Of course it does!" Krem said with gritted teeth. "If you know how she feels, then what's stopping you from telling her? And so help me, Chief, if the reason has anything to do with—" 

"The Ben-Hassrath?" Bull offered. Propping his arm on his chair's armrests, he leaned on his hand. "Yeah, that's some of it. You _do_ realize why they sent me down here, right?" 

Among other things, getting involved with the Inquisitor herself would be playing right into the Qun's advantage. If they sent orders for him... Bull didn't even want to think about it. He knew better then to try to assume the Qun's plans. It never ended well. 

A worried expression overtook Krem's face. "You wouldn't hurt Her Worship! Even if they sent you orders—" 

Bull turned his head away, staring at the bottles on the back wall. If Krem wanted to lie to himself, that was his own business. But they had been through too much for Bull to lie to him.

"It's not just that, Krem," Bull said after a beat. It'd be easier if he could open up to Krem about the bet and what Leliana and Bull were trying to achieve. But Bull knew Krem would start yelling more, and then most likely tell the boss everything, and it would all be for naught. All that work, would have gone up in smoke. "It's just..." Bull sighed. "It's complicated, alright? She told me last night that gets confused around me. The feeling is mutual, all right? Not that I can do anything about it."

Krem raised an eyebrow. "Because?"

"How about, she's my boss? Or the fact that she's the Herald of Andraste? Or the last thing she needs right now is to further complicate her life by letting me and my complicated shit into it? Are any of those acceptable? Because I can keep going, you know."

Crossing his arms against his chest, Krem let out a loud breath through his nose. "Are the rest of the reasons more sad excuses? Because that's exactly what they've sounded like so far." When Bull glared at him, Krem shrugged. "But if I can't make you listen to reason, then by all means... continue to wallow in self pity. I'm sure that will help your situation just fine."

"Oh? Look who's talking," Bull countered, sneering. "I've been on your case for weeks to talk to that bard, and you have yet to even introduce yourself." He nodded towards Maryden, as she played her lute. "Do you think that she's just going to fall into your arms some day? She doesn't even know your name."

Krem glared incredulously, his face turning red. "I'd say the same for you, Chief," Krem shot back, throwing his arms up in the air. "You're going to lose Her Worship before you even have her at this rate. All because you're too scared of what could happen if, Maker forbid, you told her the truth."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" 

" _It means_ that you're failing in the task I requested of you," said a third voice. Krem and Bull looked up from their fight to see Leliana looming over them. Her facial expression was calm as usual, but the look in her eyes was terrifying.

If Bull had been told that the Left Hand of the Divine was capable of stabbing people in the chest with her eyes, in that moment he would have believed it.

"Hey Red. How's it going?" Bull asked, trying to sound as calm and casual as possible. The threat session that had come after Crestwood was the most forefront thing in his mind. Evisceration was probably still on the table. 

Leliana's hand darted out, nearly hitting Bull in the head with it. In it was a letter from one of her scouts. "Read it," she said, her voice remaining cool. Bull took the letter from her hand and began to skim the report. "Did you know about this?" she asked in an accusing tone.

"About what?" Krem said, raising an eyebrow at Bull. 

"Venatori were spotted near the Storm Coast," Bull replied, keeping his eyes on Leliana. "They're trying to ship red lyrium to Tevinter. And that would be very bad for Seheron, so the Qunari are offering an alliance with the Inquisition."

"What?"

Pressing her lips together, Leliana folded the letter and tucked it away in her tunic. "We had an agreement, Iron Bull. You were to keep me informed."

"And I _have_ been. You realize the Ben-Hassrath don't tell me _everything_. They have their own plans, whether they want to include me in them or not is another story."

Leliana's eyes narrowed. "And what if I said that I don't believe you?"

Bull shrugged. "I really didn't know about this. Its huge, though. They wouldn't use the word alliance if they didn't mean it."

"I still don't think they wouldn't take too friendly to the idea of the Inquisitor being a mage, Chief," Krem said, pushing a hand through his hair. 

"They already know she is," Bull said, shrugging.

"But if they're coming here, they might—"

"I _know_ , Krem. _Shit_ , you don't have to say it."

Leliana's glare turned harder. " _Now_ you take the Herald into consideration? How lovely. And your display last night had nothing to do with this alliance development?"

"I— _What_?"

"Don't play coy with me," Leliana said, shaking her head. "You purposefully put her in a position of weakness in front of an audience of a hundred nobles, to force her into this alliance." 

"I don't even know what you're talking about. That was—"

"Know this—" Leliana interrupted, her eyes flashing. "I will not allow you to use her just so you can break her once you are finished following whatever orders the Qunari gave you." Eyes narrowed, her voice grew colder. "I am no fool. While you have been trained by the Ben-Hassrath, the Inquisitor has not. She wears her heart on her sleeve. You and I both know it. Proceed _very_ carefully, Iron Bull."

"Is that a threat?" Bull asked. He kept his face neutral, not wanting to give the Spymaster's any quarter. He was well aware what she was implying, as well as his reputation. But lest they forget, it was Leliana's damn plan in the first place. 

"It is," Leliana said, a cold smile forming on her lips.

Bull stared. "And forcing the boss into the position of Inquisitor and spreading rumors of her being the Herald of Andraste isn't using her at all, huh?"

Leliana's mouth twitched, as she glanced over at Krem. 

The message was clear: If he didn't watch what he said, she'd tell Krem everything. And then he'd have a messy situation, as Krem would definitely not approve of the bet, Leliana's task, and would probably run and tell the Boss before anyone could have a chance to talk him out of it.

However, Bull never gave into threats. And Red was really starting to piss him off. "Am I wrong?" Bull asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Krem stepped between the two of them, giving them both a warning look. "Last time I checked, we were _all_ on the same side, so maybe we should all just drop it, and start acting like it!"

" _Are we_ though?" Leliana said, tilting her head to the side. 

"Of course we are," Krem said, turning his attention to the Spymaster. "I've seen the Chief on a job before. He thinks no one can tell the difference, but _I can_. Perhaps you should instead check on the validity of this Qunari lead? The Chargers and I would be happy to lend a hand, if it's needed, Sister Nightingale."

It took everything for Bull to hold back the laugh bubbling in his throat. _Nice one, Aclassi. Very nice._ Krem's offering of help was an especially nice touch. It was an extremely underhanded way to imply that Leliana's spies weren't up to the task. He could even overlook Krem's assumption when it came to his Ben-Hassrath skills, but then again, it seemed that Krem was starting to notice things that Hissrad would have never let others see. 

Leliana stared at Krem for a moment. Bull could practically see her rolling the scenarios in her mind on what next action would produce the best outcome for her in the situation. If he wasn't so frustrated with her crap, he'd even have been nice enough to point out her obvious tell to her. "That won't be necessary, Aclassi. But thank you for the offer," she said finally, keeping her eyes on Bull. "Should the Inquisitor go through with this alliance, she'll need you and the Chargers to accompany her on the mission."

Bull gave a shallow nod. "I'll talk to her about it next time I see her."

"And you'll be sure to warn her of the risks that would come with such an alliance." The cold look Leliana gave him made it clear that it was not a request.

"Of course," Bull said with a shrug.

That seemed to satisfy her. Letting out a small huff, Leliana gathered herself— her cold expression changing to something more neutral. Still menacing to the average person, but looking less like she was going to stab the first person who looked at her wrong. "Thank you. Now, if the two of you will excuse me, the Inquisitor will be holding judgment in a short while, and I must help prepare."

"Another one already?" Krem asked. "Who's she judging?"

Leliana raised an eyebrow. 

_Crap_ , Bull thought to himself, pressing on his throbbing forehead. He'd almost forgot. "The Mayor of Crestwood."

 

3.

The Inquisitor's throne bathed in the afternoon sunlight. As with everything they did when it came to the Inquisitor, holding judgments in the afternoon was a tactical choice by Leliana and Josephine. The sun naturally provided an intimidating environment for those in judgement. For Liadan, it made it harder to read someone's true intention when they were blinded by the light shining in their eyes. 

There had not been many judgments in her few weeks as Inquisitor, and for that Liadan was thankful. Having a man or woman's life in her hands, leaving it up to them to plead their innocence, or not in some cases, was an incredible burden to bear. 

While not as experienced at reading people as _some_ of her inner circle, Liadan could tell from the way Crestwood's mayor was carrying himself, he had already gave up on his life.

On her right, Josephine cleared her throat. "May we begin, Inquisitor?" 

Liadan gave a curt nod. 

"Mayor Gregory Dedrick of Crestwood is present for betraying his own constituents," Josephine said, reading the charges from her portable desk and marking with her quill as she did so. "He confesses that, ten years ago, he flooded Old Crestwood to kill refugees and villagers touched by the Blight. The mayor claims that it was to spare the rest of Crestwood but, we only have his word." Josephine did not sound convinced.

The stacked remains of the dead in Old Crestwood flooded Liadan's mind— how overwhelmed she felt in that moment, seeing the hallowed out shell of a village. She swore there, on the shores of Old Crestwood that she would help Thedas, so a tragedy like that would never happen again. 

Liadan leaned forward in the throne. Now was not the time. A man's life hung in the balance. "If the mayor has anything to say in his defense, let him speak."

The mayor shook his head. "There's no cure for the Blight! But I couldn't convince anyone to leave a sick child or husband behind."

Josephine let out a incredulous huff. "So you herded the infected into one place and flooded Old Crestwood. Were no innocents caught in the waters?"

"Nearly everyone in the village had the Blight, I swear it!" The mayor insisted. "Have mercy! I couldn't tell the survivors that I drowned their own families to save them. I-I couldn't!"

Liadan stared at the mayor, trying to understand his thinking. Would she have done the same thing, had she been in place? Could she have been able to live with herself if she had? How did this man live his life every day in the village, lying to each and every person there? 

What she did know was that there was simply too much death in this case already. 

Liadan leaned back in her throne in thought, staring at the pitiful old man. "You lied for ten years about your crime, and then fled after confessing your guilt. For avoiding justice, you are hereby exiled from Ferelden." 

There were several gasps throughout the audience, and Liadan wasn't sure if that was good or bad. But that was her decision. With a nod, she added, "I doubt the crown will disagree."

The mayor's shoulders sank. "I knew your coming meant the end, one way or another." 

Turning her head away from the mayor as the Inquisition guard unshackled him, Liadan instead focused on the nobles in attendance. They were whispering to each other, most watching with disgusted faces as the mayor went by. A few were sending glares her way as she stood up from the throne. Were they upset by her choice to let him live? Or was it still gossip about the night before? 

As the audience for the judgment started to filter out of the entrance hall, a pair of horns caught her eye. Iron Bull was leaning up against the wall near the fireplace that Varric had deemed his area. He caught her eye and nodded before turning to Varric and saying something to him. 

"That went well, Inquisitor," Josephine said from beside her. "Although, I must admit, not the judgment I expected."

"Oh?"

"Well—" The ambassador hesitated. "It's just that I did not expect you to give him such a merciful punishment."

Liadan glanced to the ambassador with a grim expression. "I wouldn't call it merciful, Josephine. He has another chance at life, but at what cost? It's a mark he'll carry until the end of his days. I would have been doing him a favor in killing him." She looked back over to where Iron Bull was standing, but he was already gone. Sighing, Liadan waved to the ambassador. "Let's not do another one of these for a while, all right?"

"Hopefully, there will be no need, Inquisitor. Now, there is also the matter of Lord desRosier..." She gave Liadan a hesitant look. "The note you sent me this morning was a little unclear. I was hoping you could go into further detail?"

Liadan sighed. At least the ambassador didn't spring Lord desRosier on her before the judgement. Not that she would admit it aloud, but Liadan had really expected Josephine to do just that. At least something as going her way for once. "It would do me little favor to apologize to Lord desRosier in public. It would undermine me further in the eyes of Orlesian nobles. However, Lord desRosier is also not in public favor either— he's just in better standing than the Inquisition in the political circles of Orlais at the moment, correct?"

"Yes," Josephine said, her voice still unsure. "But what does that—"

"He also, as I have experienced personally, is a terrible dancer. And if we were to help in that matter, he could in time, return a favor?"

"Inquisitor, I'm not sure _dance lessons_ would serve to calm the waters between the two of you."

"He can leave if he wishes. After all, only what, a hundred guests saw what took place last night? He might be able to out pace the rumors."

Shaking her head with disapproval, Josephine was clearly fighting back a laugh. "We will make you a player of The Game yet, Inquisitor. I will discuss matters with Lord desRosier. However, I will also think up alternative offers before I approach him, if that's all right with you?"

"So long as I don't have to see him again— or marry him."

"No, I don't think it will come to that. Lady Richelieu and I had some productive conversations this morning. It seems that there might be a less... complicated offer of marriage in Lord desRosier's future." Nodding, Josephine made a note on her parchment and made her way back to her office. "We do also have to make final decisions on who you are going to take with you to the Winter Palace."

"I don't understand why we just can't take everyone?" Liadan sighed.

"Because you need to have the people you need on hand to move throughout the palace quietly, if need be. And since your inner circle continues to grow, that makes it a little more difficult to do so quietly." Liadan opened her mouth to counter, but Josephine shook her head. "Everyone will come with us to Halamshiral, but there are other things we need to observe while there. It's just as important to have allies outside the walls as it is to have them inside. We do not have to decide now. Just _soon_." She nodded as she opened the door to her office. "Enjoy your lessons with Madame de Fer, Inquisitor."

Liadan resisted the urge to groan, only because she was certain Vivienne would hear it from her mezzanine. With the party finished, Liadan's Knight Enchanter lessons would resume as normal. Not that Liadan's etiquette and dance lessons stopped— after all, she _must_ be prepared for Halamshiral. The preparation was exhausting her to the point where part of her didn't want to go at all, the outcome be damned. But she had to prevent Celene's assassination, and so she had to be there, and so— the lessons.

When she entered the rotunda, Solas was sitting on the couch on the far side of the room, a thick book open on his lap. "Ah, _lethallan_ ," he said, smiling to her. Liadan was taken aback for a moment. She was quite sure Solas had never used _lethallan_ with her before. Since when were they _that_ close? "Going up for your lessons, I see."

"The Inquisitor's job is never done," Liadan said with a shrug. "One day, I'll be able to take a good long rest."

Solas closed the book, a loud boom echoing through the rotunda. "Let's just hope it's not a permanent one," he said as he stood. He made his way towards her, watching her closely. "I wouldn't want to keep you away from your lessons, but I just wanted to commend you for the excellent party last night."

Laughing, Liadan shook her head. "You are joking, right? That couldn't have gone any worse."

"On the contrary— after your display with desRosier, the Orlesian nobles were quite fascinated with you. I was fielding questions for the rest of the night."

"You were?" Liadan blinked. 

Solas let out an annoyed huff. "It seems that since we are both elves, the nobles assumed I would be the one who would know you the best."

"Oh _Creators_! Please tell me that wasn't also the case for Sera! How much damage control does Josephine have to do?"

"Fret not," he replied, a smile tugging at his lips. "Sera was otherwise engaged performing a very enthusiastic reenactment of what happened, with Varric narrating, of course. I'll never know how she convinced Blackwall to play as you— but Sera's impression of the Lord desRosier was uncanny to say the least."

Sighing, Liadan pinched the bridge of her nose. "I don't even know where to begin..."

"Blackwall did not do you justice, but that may just be my preference," he said, considering it for a moment. "Your Free Marcher accent is far more pleasing to the ears. Not to mention, you are much—" Solas' eyes met hers, and his words trailed off. Instead, he cleared his throat loudly. "I heard you had a judgment this afternoon?" 

"It just finished," she replied, gesturing towards the door behind her. "The Mayor of Crestwood. Apparently, he'd been apprehended two days ago, but my Spymaster thought it was best to not inform me until this morning," she said, glaring up at the top floor of the rotunda. She knew Leliana was listening, and she really didn't care. This hiding things from the Inquisitor for her 'own good' needed to stop.

"Ah." Solas nodded his head in acknowledgment. "The man who killed for the greater good of his village? Tragic, but an understandable purpose," he said, his voice sounding a bit colder than usual. Liadan felt a chill go up her spine hearing him say it like that. He was in front of her now, a strange smile on his lips. "I trust you let him go?"

"I exiled him," she said, looking away from his piercing stare. "I couldn't leave his deed unpunished. But prison or death did not seem the answer either."

"Of course. A wise decision. Leliana and Cassandra were right to choose you to lead the Inquisition. You have a special way of seeing the bigger picture. Let the mayor live with the guilt on his shoulders in a new country," Solas said, his voice becoming distant. Liadan looked up to see him staring over her shoulder now. His eyes were locked on his fresco on the wall behind her. 

Liadan turned around. He was staring at the panel Liadan had always assumed was referencing the day the Inquisition was formed. In the sky loomed the giant eye of the Inquisition, the Inquisitor's sword— now her sword— split the panel, with wolves howling to either side. She glanced back over to Solas with a questioning look. _Why was he staring at this panel so intensely?_

"It is a far worse punishment to have to face your mistakes head on than to be struck down with a blade," he said, sounding distant. "Death would be too easy an escape." After a moment, he blinked, and snapped back into the moment. He turned to Liadan and smiled, but she could tell that it was forced. It was an expression she had become intimately aware of since becoming the Herald. "My apologies. Here I am waxing along, whilst Vivienne is upstairs waiting." He gave her a dismissing nod. "I would not have you miss your lessons."

Staring at him for a minute, Liadan slowly nodded. "We'll talk later, Solas."

"Of course. _Dareth shiral, lethallan_."

She gave him an odd look before going up the stairs. What was he playing at? For someone so against the Dalish and their culture, it was quite odd to hear such an endearment cross his lips.

\---

"You should have let him burn."

"Yes, thank you for your input, Vivienne," Liadan said, tightening her grip on the hilt of her Spirit Blade. 

The nice weather allowed them to practice outside in the courtyard. Liadan was still having trouble with control over her Spirit Blade. And, of course, Vivienne had to share her thoughts on the prior evening and the incident with Lord desRosier. 

"I couldn't just burn the noble we invited here to make an alliance."

"Why ever not? You are the Inquisitor, darling. Lord desRosier is a known menace in Orlesian society. Burning him might put you in the favor of the nobility."

Distracted, Liadan's Spirit Blade once again lost its shape. With a frustrated sigh, she shook her head. "It was an accident."

An amused smile pulled on the Enchantress' lips. "I doubt that. But I do have to wonder what brought about that kind of reaction." She gestured for Liadan to once again try to summon the Spirit Blade. "Is there something you would like to share?" 

Pursing her lips, Liadan re-summoned the blade. She stared at the yellow glow of it, letting it ground her in the moment. "Not particularly," she said flatly. 

"Would it have to do anything to do with the spectacular dance you shared with the Iron Bull?"

The blade wavered, but didn't fade. "No," Liadan replied, trying to focus on the Blade. 

"Hm," Vivienne mused, looking thoroughly unconvinced. "You know, I've been revising the Dance of Six Candles with him for weeks. I was quite impressed by his performance, weren't you?"

The blade flickered once more. _Focus,_ she chided herself. Liadan gave Vivienne and indignant look. "Can we please—" her voice cracked as she realized what the Enchantress had said. "Wait, _what_?" 

"I wanted to make sure he was ready for the Winter Palace, of course. I needn't have worried, as his knowledge of Orlesian dances is quite impressive," Vivienne smirked. "Oh darling, I thought you knew! That's why I requested the musicians to play the Dance of Six Candles when he asked you to dance."

"You— _what_?" Liadan exclaimed, her Spirit Blade disappearing completely. 

Vivienne made a sound of disapproval. "That's enough for today. I can see your thoughts are elsewhere."

Liadan did her best to not scream in reply. If there was one thing that Liadan was sure about Vivienne, it was that she would not take kindly to such a display. Taking a deep breath, she tucked the hilt of her blade into her belt. "You did that on purpose," Liadan said, trying to keep her voice as even as possible. "You were distracting me _on purpose._ "

"And if I was?" Vivienne asked with a raised eyebrow. "Do you think that the Red Templars will wait on the battlefield for you to become focused? Or that an Envy Demon will make sure there are no distractions before he attacks?" Vivienne rounded on her, her voice turning cold. "You need to be able to keep that blade steady at all times, no matter what."

Pressing her lips together, Liadan lowered her head. Vivienne was right, of course, but that didn't make Liadan feel any better in that moment.

But the enchantress was not finished. "If the simple mention of the Iron Bull makes you lose focus completely, how will you be able to keep your blade strong when he is fighting beside you?"

"The same way I would be able to focus with any of you by my side," Liadan replied sharply. "I want to keep you all safe. I need this blade to protect—"

"And what if the Iron Bull's blood is spilt at your feet?"

Liadan's mind flashed to watching Iron Bull fall at Caer Bronach. Followed by his corpse in that bleak future in Redcliffe. Looking Vivienne in the eye, Liadan forced those visions away. "I don't know," she said, her voice quiet. 

"Yes, you do," Vivienne said flatly. "What you don't know is how to cultivate those feelings into your own strength. If you can master that, darling, your blade will never waver again." She placed her hand on Liadan's shoulder. "Think on it. We will try again tomorrow."

Although she felt slightly dazed, Liadan nodded as Vivienne headed towards the stairs leading up to the castle. Instead of following her, Liadan slowly made her way over to the stairs leading up to the battlements. There she sat, leaning her back against the stone wall. While the courtyard was bustling with Skyhold's normal day to day activities around her, Liadan was lost in thought. Her mind went over what Vivienne said. 

How was she supposed to cultivate feelings she didn't even understand herself? Her desire to protect her friends, she understood. The more time she spent with her inner circle, the more she was certain that she would sacrifice anything to keep them safe. The outcome of Haven was proof enough of that.

But with Iron Bull? There was no name to put to how she felt about Iron Bull. _Vhenan_ had slipped out of her mouth so easily— and it felt... _right_. But it wasn't something she could force on him. Especially since he had told her himself— the Qunari don't have those types of relationships. 

"The seed started small. It grew into a rose bush. Thorns sharper than any blade, but its bloom twice as beautiful as as the finest red rose. Your thumb pricks, but it's worth the pain." 

Liadan sighed. "Hello, Cole." 

"Good afternoon," the boy said, appearing to the right of her a few steps higher. He tipped his head away from her. "I'm trying to help, but it's hard to see through the thorns. Would it help if I told you a joke? Varric told me to practice."

Liadan smiled and shook her head. "I'll be all right, thank you. Vivienne just gave me a lot to think about is all."

Pulling the sides of his hat, Cole's shoulders slumped. "The Iron Bull didn't want to hear my joke either. How am I to practice when no one wants to hear it?"

"He didn't?" she asked. That was unusual. Iron Bull would normally humor Cole's odd requests. "Is something wrong?"

Cole shook his head. "The, a joke he laughs to himself— imaging herds of cattle in fields of iron. But now he worries it fits. Worries that there is no going backward. An old word, lost, plays on the tip of the tongue. How does it sound?"

It took Liadan a moment to try to understand what Cole was saying. Varric was so much better at making sense of the spirit boy's riddles than she was. While the second part was nonsense, she did understand the first. "Does Iron Bull need help?"

"He worries for what's to come," he says, nodding. "Things that once meant nothing mean everything. And they will not understand, no matter what words his mouth forms." He hesitates for a moment. "There are more thoughts, buried deep, but he told me they are personal and I cannot share it."

Amused, Liadan let out a small snort. "But it was okay to share the rest?"

The boy's eyes grew wide, realizing his mistake. "Probably not. But I'm trying to help him as well. He has many thoughts tucked away, for no one to see. Not even him."

"It's all right. I won't tell him. Perhaps you should find Krem— he can help the Iron Bull."

"Actually," Cole said, dipping his head away from her. "He wants to talk to you."

"Iron Bull?" Liadan blinked. "Are you sure?" she asked, pushing herself up to standing. If Iron Bull needed to talk to her, then she would go— despite her hesitations. After all, it was her fault if things were ruined between them. The least she could do was listen to what he needed to tell her. Maybe she could even apologize for the night before.

Nodding, Cole leaned towards her. "A name almost formed. You feel more real to him now. He likes it when you're near."

Liadan's foothold faltered. " _What_?"

"Oh, _private thoughts_ ," Cole said, ducking under his hat. As he curled into himself, he vanished from the stairs.

Liadan quickly looked around the courtyard, trying to spot where Cole had disappeared to. But he was gone. She instead spotted the Iron Bull pacing the section of battlements next to where she was. Sighing, Liadan shook her head and started to make her way up the stairs. Hopefully, this wasn't a mistake. She wasn't sure if she could take a second rejection so soon. 

Iron Bull didn't even realize she was there at first. He was still pacing back and forth along the edge closest to the cliffs, clearly lost in thought. There was a piece of paper clenched in his right hand. Whatever it was, it was clearly the source of Iron Bull's discontent. 

She cleared her throat to announce her presence. Iron Bull's head shot up immediately, eyes narrowed. Liadan faltered for a moment, before her hand popped up in a pathetic attempt at a wave. "Uh, hello," she said, mentally kicking herself for her sad attempt. "How are you today?"

" _Boss_ ," Iron Bull said, his entire body instantly relaxing. He was back to his old self— as if that moment of awkwardness had never passed between them. If only Liadan could get over it so quickly. "Hey. Didn't hear you come up. How's it going? All done with your lessons for the day?" 

Liadan nodded her head as she leaned on the merion across from him. "Madam Vivienne has declared me hopeless for the day. Too distracted."

Tucking the paper clenched in his fist into his belt, Iron Bull gave her his full attention. "By the judgment earlier?"

Considering Iron Bull for a moment, Liadan decided to go along with him on the subject. It was far easier than to explain to him why she was really distracted. She nodded, not trusting herself to give breath to the lie. After all, Iron Bull was still a spy. And she still was no good at Wicked Grace.

"I don't blame you," he said with a shrug. "It couldn't have been an easy call. Although, after finding all of those bodies— I wouldn't have pegged you for letting him off with exile."

"I didn't _let him off_. Prison wouldn't be a suitable punishment in this case. And his death wouldn't bring nothing more to the grieved."

Humming, Bull shook his head. "Can't say that I agree with you, but you clearly thought it through."

"You think I should have killed him?"

"My opinion doesn't matter, boss," he said, sounding a little exasperated. "I just do what you tell me. Eventually, you're going to get that."

"Your opinion matters to me," she said, narrowing her eyes at him. _Eventually you're going to get the idea that you aren't just a dumb bodyguard,_ she thought, lacking the courage to say it aloud. Instead, she said, "I get opinions thrown at me all day with my advisors. Most of them are unwanted opinions. I _want_ yours."

He considered her for a moment. His intense stare made brought back memories of the night before. She pushed her feelings down and stared right back at him.

With a snort, Iron Bull finally looked away from her. And, unless her eyes were playing a trick on her, she could have swore she saw a hint of a smile on his lips. "Of course I think you should have killed him," he said, shaking his head. "He caused the death of countless innocent people, through a rash decision. All because he was trying to save his own skin from getting the Blight. He was _a coward_."

"So he can't have a chance to repent for his mistakes? That's not fair to him, Iron Bull. He clearly regrets what he has done."

"Because he got caught."

"But—" 

"Look, I told you that my opinion doesn't matter," he said as he walked towards her. "As a leader, you can ask opinions all you want— and you should. Listen to everyone. And then make your decision." He leaned next to her on the merion. It was probably too close— but since when did Iron Bull have any restraint? "But once you make a decision, you need to have faith in it," he continued. "So while yes, I wholeheartedly disagree with your judgment— you are _the Inquisitor_. You're the leader of this whole operation. And what you say goes."

Liadan chewed worryingly on her lip. "And what if I make the wrong decision?"

"Then you make the wrong decision. But you still need take responsibility for it. Don't be like that asshole and lie to everyone for years."

She shook her head incredulously. "It's that easy, huh?"

"Well," he said with a shrug. "If leading was easy then everyone would want to do it. It's also why Qunari choose their leaders from those willing to make the hard choices, those who can also live with the consequences if it goes tits up." Sighing, he pushed himself to standing. "Speaking of which—" he said, grabbing the papers he tucked into his belt. Liadan reached out for them. He blinked at her hands before shrugging and handing them over. "I got a letter from one of my contacts in the Ben-Hassrath. Red verified it."

Quickly scanning it, Liadan realized it was in Qunlat, and therefore completely useless to her. She handed them right back. He smirked at her, looking quite amused. She glared at him in return. "I thought you were just sending reports?"

"Yeah, so did I," Iron Bull said, shaking his head. "The Ben-Hassrath have been reading my reports. They don't like Corypheus or his Venatori. And they _really_ don't like red lyrium. They're ready to work with us... with _you_ , boss. To join forces with the Inquisition."

Her eye brows shot up. "That would be an unprecedented offer— _if_ I believed it was legitimate. _Which I don't_ by the way."

Iron Bull smirked at her. "Good girl. Ordinarily that'd be the way to go, but they've identified themselves, so it's okay. They're not running a game on you." He crossed the battlement, facing towards the tall Frostback Mountains, looking somewhat distracted by his own thoughts. "Apparently, they've found a massive red lyrium shipping operation out on the Storm Coast. They want us to hit it together. But they don't want to tip off the smugglers, so no army. My Chargers, you, and maybe some backup— but that's it."

Liadan tipped her head to the side. "You don't seem entirely happy about this."

"No, I'm good. It's uh... I'm used to them being _over there_. It's been a while."

"I thought the Qunari wanted to extend their reach to the whole world."

"Yeah," he said, frowning. "Just didn't think I'd see it. Look, the Qun answers a lot of questions. It's a good life for a lot of people. But it's a big change. And a lot of folks here wouldn't do so well under that kind of life."

"Such as?"

"Well, _you_ for starters, boss. You're a pretty powerful mage and you've got that green glowing thing that seals rifts. It's a useful tool. And I don't have to tell you what the Qunari do to mages or useful tools." With a sigh, he leaned on the edge of the battlement and lowered his head. "It's not like we're coming here to convert, I guess. This is just us joining forces against Corypheus. On that front, I think we're good. Just... watch your back."

"I thought you were," Liadan said. She meant it to be teasing, but it came out a little sadder than she had intended. Iron Bull looked up. But as he opened his mouth to reply, Liadan spoke over whatever he was going to say. "I think the Inquisition could use some help from the Qunari."

He frowned, clearly annoyed with her interruption. But he nodded in agreement. "Good. I'll pass word to Cullen and Red. We can set up the meeting whenever you're ready." After a moment of clear hesitation on his face, he cleared his throat. "Look, boss, about last night—"

Liadan felt a tug on her heart. It was the last possible thing she wanted to talk about. Waving her hands in front of her, she shook her head. "No, you don't have to explain anything. It's fine. I'm the one who needs to apologize. I had too much to drink, and said things I shouldn't have. So, I'm sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable." 

She could get over this on her own. She really could. 

The last thing she needed was the sympathetic look Iron Bull was giving her. 

"Look, I should go. I need to... be alone... for a while," she said, pointing behind her.

"As you wish, boss," he said with a small nod. 

He looked as if he wanted to say more, but Liadan wasn't going to let him. It may have been in retaliation for leaving her alone the night before, but in that moment, she really didn't care. 

Liadan pushed herself standing and began walking in the direction of Cullen's office. It would be easier to face him than an entire courtyard full of people grabbing for her attention. "We'll speak later, Iron Bull."

"Yeah," he said, still frowning at her. "See ya."

 

4.

"Alright, our Qunari contacts should be here to meet us," Bull said, eying the terrain around them. There were no signs of anyone anywhere, save them. Which meant there were no Sten along with them. Only Ben-Hassrath agents— not great, considering the company. Two mages and the dwarf who brought red lyrium to Thedas, along with the agent who had no qualms about passing along any information he received. If this was a double cross... they were fucked.

There was something to be said about how _not right_ this all felt. Bull felt it in his gut. Alliance aside, the means of how they went about making this arrangement was a little too cautious, even for Ben-Hassrath. Because it was the Storm Coast, the visibility was absolute shit. Even if they had brought more men than agreed, it's not like the Venatori would be able to see them in the low clouds and rain. 

"He is," a voice said from behind them. The group turned to see a small red-headed elf walking towards them "Good to see you again, Hissrad."

Bull jolted at hearing that name again. _Liar_. It'd been years. 

Out of the foliage walked the slave who Bull had saved from a Tevinter magister so many years ago.

They were so fucked. 

" _Gatt_."


	8. Chapter 8

1.

Vivienne raised her Spirit Blade. "Now don't hold back, darling. Focus your magic on the blade and come at me."

From the corner of her eye, Liadan could see Krem and a few of the Chargers, as well as Cassandra, gathering to watch their practice. 

She took a deep breath to block it all out. Focusing on forming her blade, she felt the air around her surge with magic, and when she opened her eyes, her blade was burning bright. 

While Vivienne was a highly skilled mage, there was one thing that she was loathe to do— get dirty. Her looks were too impeccable to allow any bit of dirt to land on her. And Liadan intended to take advantage of that fact. She charged, running full speed towards Vivienne. The grounds were still damp from the morning rain, so Liadan's made sure her feet splashed mud every step of the way. Liadan knew her form was still sloppy, but she was starting to be able to learn to read Vivienne quite well. The Enchantress flinched at the oncoming mess, and readied herself to step out of the way to save her clothes from a caking of mud. In Vivienne's other hand, she was readying a counter ice spell. 

But Liadan was ready this time. When Vivienne stepped away from the attack, Liadan changed the angle of her attack to compensate. 

Managing to block the attack, albeit only just, with her own Spirit Blade, Vivienne's eyes grew wide. "Excellent. You're finally starting to catch on, darling." Pushing forward, the two blades broke apart, and Liadan took a step back, ready to attack again. "That was an excellent tactic. Did the Iron Bull show you that?"

Liadan pressed her lips together. It was only a distraction, and it wasn't going to work this time. "No, Cole did," she said, smirking.

"Ah." The dismissive tone in her voice was clear. "I suppose no one has seen much of the Iron Bull since the alliance with the Qunari fell through." Vivienne spoke of it as if it was just some kind of negotiation that had fallen apart, and not that several Qunari lost their lives. And Iron Bull... he lost everything. 

It was another distraction that Vivienne was throwing at her, and Liadan could not let her have the satisfaction of besting her again. Now was not the time to examine her thoughts on the aftermath of the Storm Coast. Liadan charged at her again, this time, pulling everything she could from her connection to the Fade. Their blades clashed again, and again, Liadan refusing to give Vivienne the chance to get the upper hand.

Vivienne parried one of the attacks with a small ice spell. It hit Liadan in the shoulder, but she kept moving despite the chill running through her entire body. Vivienne pretended to let her guard down, but Liadan was not fooled. "Have you spoken to him about the Winter Palace yet?" The Enchantress asked as if they were in the middle of tea. Liadan brought her blade down, but Vivienne once more easily parried it. "Oh darling, I hope you do plan to bring him along. Not only will he be very _popular_ in the Orlesian court—" Another attack, another parry. "But I'm sure the two of you will simply just enchant everyone with your beautiful dance once more." Liadan brought her Spirit Blade down over her head and finally managed to land a blow. The hit, of course, bounced off of Vivienne's barrier spell, but Liadan had finally managed to get a hit. 

_Finally._

Vivienne smiled... although Liadan wasn't sure if that was good or bad. "Well done," she said, lowering her Spirit Blade. As soon as she did, the blade vanished. Only then did Liadan let her guard down, letting her blade vanish as she tucked it away into her belt. 

Around them, the small crowd erupted into cheers, along with a few whistles from the Chargers. Liadan gave them all a playful glare. "Yes, alright! Thank you very much, but I'm sure you all have duties to attend to!" There were a few chuckles, but they broke apart and left the two to their lesson. Cassandra gave Liadan an approving nod before heading back to her practicing dummies. 

Stepping forward, Vivienne took Liadan's hands in hers. "I knew you'd get there eventually. Although," she said, tilting her head to the side. "You _are_ still signaling in advance where you are going to attack. I'm not sure subterfuge will ever be your strong suit. But, you are getting faster and more confident. The real test will be to use it in a real fight out in the field."

"Hopefully, I won't need to use it in Halamshiral."

"Well, one never knows with The Game. It depends on how desperate Corypheus has become," Vivienne said, shaking her head. "However, I was serious— you should consider taking the Iron Bull with you. He will serve as a perfect distraction."

Liadan gave her a doubtful look. "I'm not going to make him go with me."

"Who says you would have to make him, darling?" Vivienne said with a smirk. "I'm quite sure he would go if you asked."

As the two began to make their way towards the entrance stairs, one of the runners came up to the Inquisitor, a note in hand. "Lady Herald, an urgent message for you."

A pit of worry sank in her stomach. "Oh?" she said, trying to sound calm. She took the note, and nodded her thanks. The runner nodded in return before taking his leave. As soon as he turned away, Liadan tore the note open and read. 

_Boss, meet me on the battlements as soon as you get this._

That was it? She quickly reread the note before looking up to the battlements. She didn't see the Iron Bull anywhere.

Vivienne raised an eyebrow. "Well?"

"Oh," Liadan looked up from the letter. "It's fine," she said, a little too quickly. "I forgot I had a meeting this afternoon with Cullen. Can we cut today's lesson short?"

Looking completely unconvinced, Vivienne pursed her lips. "Of course, darling. If you have a meeting, that takes precedence. Do apologize to Commander Cullen for your tardiness on my behalf."

"Thank you. I, uh, will. Same time tomorrow?" She jogged towards the staircase leading up to the battlements before even getting an answer from Vivienne. 

Ever since the Storm Coast, the Iron Bull had been acting unlike his usual self. No matter what Liadan said or did, it seemed like his boisterous personally had been sucked out of him since the moment he blew that horn to save the Chargers. It would be a lie to say that Liadan wasn't concerned about him. Had she made the wrong call? In the end, it'd been her choice that saved the Chargers— not his. Choosing between the two paralyzed him. But Liadan couldn't let him make that mistake— to lose his men to a mission, no matter what alliances it cost her, was out of the question. But even after Gatt had left, and they made sure the Chargers were all right, the Iron Bull still had a haunted look about him. 

Liadan took the stairs two at a time. When she reached the top of the battlements, there were only two Inquisition scouts making their rounds. She headed in the direction of Cullen's office, passing the two scouts. She knew the Commander was in a tactical meeting with Leliana, but he always left his office open for couriers to bring in messages while he was not there. Cutting through his office have the illusion to the white lie she told Vivienne. As she opened the door on the other side of Cullen's office, she saw Iron Bull standing on the other side of that section of the battlements. He looked fine, calm as ever, and not really looking as if he needed her to be there _urgently_. 

At the sound of the door opening, Iron Bull turned towards her and smiled. "Hey Boss," he said, as though they were just killing time in the Herald's Rest. 

As Liadan approached Iron Bull, two other scouts came up the staircase right behind where Iron Bull was standing. 

She was feeling incredibly silly for rushing over to find nothing was wrong. "You wanted to see me?" Liadan asked. 

But as she asked her question, two blades flashed behind Iron Bull. The scout on the left charged towards Iron Bull. Liadan opened her mouth to warn Iron Bull, but he didn't need it. Iron Bull was already turning towards the scouts, a punch ready for the one charging him. 

Liadan reached back for her staff instinctively, but there was nothing there. They weren't out in the field. Enemies were attacking them inside what were _supposed_ to be the secure walls of Skyhold. As she mentally cursed, she remembered that she had the Spirit Blade hilt with her. 

As Iron Bull punched the scout down, the other scout threw his knife. It sang through the air in a blink. Iron Bull let out a grunt as the knife plunged deep into his shoulder. Without hesitation, he pulled it out of his shoulder, and threw it back at the scout. 

"Bull!" Liadan shouted as she pulled out the hilt for her Spirit Blade. 

Iron Bull grunted, as he gave the first scout who attacked another punch. "I got it!" he shouted, punching the scout in the gut. The impact of Iron Bull's punch knocked the scout backwards, into the embrasure, and over the battlements. 

Liadan flinched, tightening her grip on the blade hilt, as she summoned a barrier on the two of them. If he wanted to take care of the attackers himself, that was fine. But she was going to make damn sure he wasn't going to take any more hits.

The scout that had been on the receiving end of Iron Bull's counter knife throw managed to pull himself off of the ground. His gait was unsteady. His left hand fumbled under his cloak for another dagger. " _Ebost Issala, Tal-Vashoth_!" he scout yelled.

There was no doubt in Liadan's mind that he was speaking Qunlat. She couldn't understand it, but she was familiar enough with the vowel sounds. The two attackers were Qunari?

Before the scout could say or do anything else, Iron Bull picked him up, holding the scout over his head, and threw him over the battlements. The scout let out a terrified scream as he fell. 

Iron Bull looked over the edge. "Yeah, yeah, my soul's dust. Yours is scattered all over the ground, so..." Touching his injury, he let out a loud grunt. "Sorry boss," he said, looking over to Liadan. "I thought I might need backup. Guess I'm not even worth sending professionals for," he scoffed. 

Liadan tucked the hilt back into her belt, willing her body to calm down. "You knew the assassins were coming?"

He shrugged. "Little change in the guard tipped me off."

Glaring, Liadan stomped her foot. "You know, you could have mentioned that in your note. I could have come up here—"

He didn't let her finish. "You go through years of Ben-Hassrath training to hide facial expressions when I wasn't looking?" 

Liadan frowned.

"See?" Iron Bull said, pointing to her. "Like _that_. You forget you have a terrible face for playing cards. If I'd warned you, you could have come charging up here, magic blazing, and spooked them. If I told any of the guards, the assassins would've been tipped off that they'd been found out." As he spoke, he started to dab at his wound, which was still bleeding heavily. 

"Are _you_ all right?" Liadan reached out to examine it. 

He maneuvered out of her reach, and shook his head. "Fine, don't worry, boss. I've hurt myself worse than this fooling around in bed."

"What if it was poisoned?"

"Oh, they _definitely_ used poison," Iron Bull said, scoffing. " _Saar-qamek_ , liquid form."

Feeling her heart stutter, Liadan reached out for the wound again. She cast a healing spell before she even realized she was doing it. He caught her hand before she could reach him and finalize the spell. Frowning, he added, "Boss, _really_ , I don't need it. I've been dosing myself with the antidote for days now."

"You have?" She blinked. 

"If I hadn't, by now I'd be going crazy and puking my guts up. It stings like shit, but that's about it." Leaning his head towards her, in a quieter voice, he added, "Stop worrying."

Liadan pulled her hand away from his grasp, ignoring how warm his touch was. He'd shown that he wasn't interested in her in that way. Now was not the time to put herself through all of that again. "I was hoping the Ben-Hassrath would let you go."

Voice somber as she had ever heard it, he said, "They did." Iron Bull squared his shoulders. He was clearly trying to go back into his carefree character, but it wasn't working. "Sending two guys with blades against _me_? That's not a hit. That's a formality. Just making it clear that I'm Tal-Vashoth." Shaking his head, Iron Bull let out a long sigh. "Tal-Va- _fucking_ -shoth." 

"You acted like a Tal-Vashoth for years. That didn't change you. Neither does this."

He scoffed. "You don't get it, boss. _That_ was just a role. _This_ is my life. As one of _those_... I killed hundreds of Tal-Vashoth in Seheron. Bandits, murderers, _bastards_ who turned their back on the Qun." Looking forlorn, he added, "And now I'm one of them..."

Liadan stepped forward, pointing her finger at him. " _Bullshit._ You're a good man."

"Without the Qun to live by..." he said, his frown deepening.

She was angry— both at the Qunari for just discarding him like an old coat, and at Iron Bull for not seeing his own worth _all the time_. How many times did she have to tell him he was so much more than he realized? She felt her cheeks becoming flushed with anger, but she wouldn't back down. Not until he got it through his thick head. " _Hey_. Stop that! You're a _good man_. If the Ben-Hassrath don't see you for what you are, then forget them. _I_ won't make the same mistake. You're too important to—" Nearly bitting her tongue, Liadan quickly turned her head away, focusing instead on the courtyard below. " _Us_ ," she added quickly. "The Inquisition, I mean." Creators, she said that out loud, didn't she?

He let out a half-hearted chuckle. "Thanks, boss. Anyway, I'll get this cleaned up and let Red know what happened."

She nodded and started for the stairs. She needed to get away as quickly as possible before she made things worse. 

But as she passed him, Bull pulled gently on her arm. "Boss?"

"Y-yes?" 

Leaning towards her, he said, "Whatever I miss, whatever I regret... this is where I want to be."

She felt her cheeks warm. She quickly broke eye contact with him.

He let go of her arm and took a step back. A smile formed on his lips as he added, "So whenever you need an ass kicked? The Iron Bull is with you."

She let out a stuttering laugh before she realized it. Smiling at him, Liadan shook her head. Even after what he had been through, he was thinking of her. " _Lathbora viran_ ," she whispered under her breath. 

"Yeah, boss— my Elven isn't that good without Dalish around. What does labyrinth verren mean?"

Now she was laughing for real. His Dalish language skills really were atrocious. "It's nothing," she said, waving it off. "Just a saying amongst the Dalish."

"Oh, I'm sure it means something. Come on, you can tell the Iron Bull."

Liadan could feel her cheeks growing warm. "It doesn't have a good translation, really. But in Dalish, well, it's us."

"Us?"

Bull stared at her for a moment. Liadan looked away, hoping he didn't read her lie. She hadn't meant for him to hear her at all. And it wasn't as if she could tell him to his face what it truly meant. After all, he already turned her down once. She wasn't going to go through that all over again. She gestured to the main entrance. "Weren't you going to go tell Leliana about this? I know she'll want to know immediately."

"Yeah," he said slowly, giving her an odd look before walking down the stairs to the courtyard. "I'll see you later, boss."

Leaning her weight on the battlements, Liadan watched him leave, hoping that by the time he could speak to Dalish, he would have forgotten what she said.

 

2.

As it turned out, telling Red about the minor Qunari infiltration was a bit more complicated then Bull assumed it would be. 

"I'm sorry—" Cullen cut Bull off mid-sentence. He and Leliana had been going over the Corypheus' movements in the Western Approach in the war room when Bull came in to report. After her last threat, Bull didn't want to delay in giving the spymaster this new information. The Commander shot a glare at Bull. "Are you telling us that you knowingly invited the Inquisitor into harm's way?"

Bull rolled his eye. "Look, Cullen, the boss is more than capable of defending herself against a few assa—" Leliana's glare turned ice cold. "Assholes. A few assholes," Bull corrected.

"But you said their weapons were poisoned," Cullen pressed.

"I've been dosing myself with the—"

Cullen gritted his teeth. "And what about _the Inquisitor_? What if she'd been struck? _Saar-qamek_ is deadly within minutes, especially for someone as small as her. Or had you been dosing her unawares all this time as well?"

Bull blinked a few times. He was thrown by the fact that Cullen knew what _saar-qamek_ was, but also because Bull hadn't even considered that there was a danger to Lavellan. And that, in itself, was sloppy for him— even with the circumstances. Was he really so distracted from what happened that he didn't even think about her safety? He quickly pushed all the _what-ifs_ deep down, because that was _not_ something he really wanted to dwell on. "I wouldn't have let anything happen to her, you know that."

Raising her eyebrow, Leliana scoffed. "I would have thought that with recent events you'd realized that not everything is absolutely in your control, Iron Bull." Bull glared at her. She merely gave him a defiant look. "Am I wrong?"

"As much as you would like it to be, it's not in _your_ control either, Red."

Cullen cleared his throat loudly. "That is enough, the both of you. This breach of security is on all of our heads. The question remaining is what are we going to _do_ about it."

"They're not going to send more agents to try and finish the job, if that's what you're worried about," Bull said, shrugging. "The Qunari have already delivered their message."

"What I'm worried about is how two Ben-Hassrath agents infiltrated our walls. If they did it once, they could do it again. And now without your—" Cullen hesitated, " _Contacts_ , Iron Bull, it will be harder to keep tabs on any moves the Qunari make against the Inquisition."

Leliana shook her head. "There will always be spies within the ranks. It's more of a question of being able to identify them quickly before any harm is done."

"The Qunari have just as much to lose as the rest of Thedas," Bull said, shaking his head. He tried not to focus on how quickly he was able to separate himself from his former life now that it was official. "They aren't going to do anything to the boss before Corypheus is dealt with. If we fail, then it won't really matter, will it?"

"And if we succeed?" Cullen asked.

Bull looked at the war table.

"That's what I thought." Cullen rubbed his forehead. "It's best not to worry about that now, I suppose. We have time... to make plans. For the time being, Leliana, perhaps it would be best if you have a few more of your agents keep watch on the Inquisitor while she is within Skyhold?"

"Of course," she said, nodding. "I would also suggest having one of the inner circle with her at all times. It would be less... suspicious."

Bull rolled his eye. "Yes, having her tailed day and night won't be suspicious at all. Good luck with that."

Leliana chuckled. "Are you saying you're not offering? Isn't that what you've been doing these last few weeks anyway?"

"That was—" Bull cut himself off as he eyed Cullen. He was more than willing to bet that Cullen would _not_ be amused by Leliana's request. And while it would be nice to see Red squirm her way out of it, Bull really didn't want to be on Cullen's bad side. After all, the Commander's crush on the Inquisitor was an open secret within Skyhold. "The boss needs her space."

"But if Qunari agents could sneak their way in, that means Corypheus' could too," Cullen argued, keeping his eyes focused on the war table. "Especially if we are successful at the Winter Palace."

"The boss has made a lot of progress, but she still feels... if you have more people constantly surrounding her, you're going to overwhelm—" Bull cut himself off as both Leliana and Cullen stared at him. "Just... you know... let it be. There are plenty of people around Skyhold that can jump in if there is a dangerous situation, if needed. Besides, what's the point of all her training with Vivienne if the boss can't hold her own?"

"Alright," Leliana said, shaking her head. "For now, let's keep things as they are. But Iron Bull, I want you to write down the mixture for your _saar-qamek_ antidote. We need to have some on hand, just in case."

He considered telling her no. After all, it was a Qunari secret. But he wasn't one of them anymore, and if it saved someone's life in the future, it was worth it. Nodding, he said, "Can do."

Waving him away, Leliana's attention went back to the war table. "Thank you for your report. If that is all, Cullen and I must get back to this."

Bull nodded in understanding before making his way out of the room. He walked with purpose through the main halls of Skyhold and over to the Herald's Rest. He ordered two bottles of Cabot's cheaper wines, and placed the gold on the bar. Krem was running drills with the Chargers outside. Bull had half a mind to crash it, and take Krem out to get blind drunk on the swill Cabot gave him, but it was probably best that he be alone with his thoughts for awhile.

He thanked Cabot for the bottles and hurried up the stairs of the tavern to his room, and then out to the battlements. There was a consistent cold breeze up there, but he welcomed it. Bull walked over to the area looking over the garden, and popped one of the bottles open.

Bull was old enough to know that the answers to his problems weren't going to be found at the bottom of a bottle. He really did. But drinking was a lot easier than trying to face how the fucked up his current situation was. 

He had thought himself clever— to be ahead of everyone by at least three moves. Bull excelled at knowing what a person would do before they would even think about doing it, because he was _that_ observant. But he didn't see Gatt coming. And he for damn sure didn't see himself having to choose between the boss and the Qun. 

_"All these years, Hissrad, and you throw away all that you are. For what? For this? For them?"_

_"His name is_ Iron Bull _."_

Bull knew that Lavellan was impossibly loyal, had seen it in action, but even _he_ didn't think that she would defend him like that. She stared Gatt down as if she would take on all of Par Vollen if she had to. 

He had felt his heart swell in his chest when Lavellan came to his defense. 

Slamming down the empty bottle down hard on the stone battlements, Bull let out a frustrated grunt. It wasn't since he left Sehron did he feel so adrift. And he no longer had the Qun to guide him. What the fuck was he supposed to do with these _feelings_ that he couldn't even put a name to? It was much more than friendship, or a need to protect. 

As a Qunari, he would've just kept Lavellan close, treasured her friendship— but that's as far as it would ever go. There were no _relationships_ within the Qun. 

But he was Tal-Vashoth now. 

On that day at the Storm Coast, just before everything fell to shit, there was a moment, where he found himself just _staring_ at her. The wind blowing her hair back as she cast a fire spell across the battlefield. He watched as the embers from her spell blew past her eyes— highlighting the freckles spread across her skin and illuminating the vallaslin on her forehead. And in that moment, he found himself thinking _home_. Not the hot winds of Par Vollen, or the feeling of nostalgia that hit him upon seeing Gatt's face again. But just _her_. 

The feeling had been gnawing at him since the night they danced, but only then, in the heat of battle, could he put a word to it:

 _Kadan_.

"Fuck," he whispered harshly, covering his face with his hand.

The chill crept up his bad ankle, making it ache just enough to remind him where he was as he popped open the second bottle of Cabot's shit wine. The chill would make sure that he wouldn't stay up there indefinitely, but for the moment, he could stand the pain. 

"Enjoying yourself?" A voice said from behind him. Bull turned to see Hawke standing on the top of the stairs leading down to the landing. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and she was giving him the same look she had at desRosier's party. She started to walk down the stairs. "And here I thought drinking in a secluded place where you could lord over everyone was a specific brooding elven trait. Seems I was wrong." She stopped just beside Bull. "Care to share your bounty with me?"

"It's pretty crap wine," Bull said, frowning at the bottle. 

Hawke chuckled. "I'll be the judge of that," she said, swiping the bottle from him. She took a quick sip, and shook her head. "Clearly, you've never tasted the selection at the Hanged Man in Kirkwall. This is a prized vintage compared to the dragon piss they serve there." She took another sip. "Or maybe it's that the Iron Bull has gotten used to the finer perks of being in the Inquisition?"

Scoffing, Bull took the wine bottle back from Hawke and took a deep drink from it. "Did you have a reason in coming here? I mean, other than just annoying the crap out of me." 

"I've taken to this little alcove during my time here, actually. So it should be _me_ asking _you_ that. Why aren't you lording over the tavern like you usually do?"

"Needed some air," Bull said before taking another drink. "And I wanted to be alone," he added, eying Hawke. 

Hawke smirked. "How unfortunate, because I don't let friends drink alone," she said, grabbing the bottle from him. 

"Since when are we friends?"

"Since I won twenty gold off of your lieutenant thanks to that beautiful dance of yours." She took her own deep drink from it. "Maker, that's good stuff." 

Bull raised an eyebrow. "I thought you didn't want to bet?"

"I said I didn't want to bet with _you_. The arrangement that your lieutenant and I came to was on a different matter."

"Oh? Do tell?"

Hawke flashed a smile. "A lady never tells." She offered the bottle back to Bull. "I hear that Skyhold had some unwanted visitors this afternoon."

Taking the bottle, Bull frowned at her. "News travels fast."

"Well, when someone is screaming in Qunlat while he's thrown over the battlements, it tends to draw some attention." She gave Bull a wry smile. "I take it wasn't a nice visit?"

Bull grunted. "You could say that."

Letting out a short hum, Hawke shook her head. "But that's all you're going to say on the matter?"

"Probably." He could feel Hawke's eyes on him, imploring him to tell her more. "Hey your guy's an elf— do _you_ know what _lathbora viran_ means?"

Hawke raised an eyebrow. "You forget that _my guy_ is a former Tevinter slave. Most of the Elven words he knows are profanities."

"Yeah and those I know," Bull said grumbling. "It's supposed to be some sort of Dalish saying. But when I asked the boss what it meant, she kind of lied? I couldn't get a read on her, but I knew she wasn't telling me the complete truth."

"Why do you think she would do that?"

"Shit, I don't know. Everything's been a little... weird since that party."

"You know, Iron Bull, I'm not sure if Varric has told you in any of his no doubt epic tales of our adventures, but I'm a bit of a hopeless romantic." She dramatically placed her hand over her heart. 

Eying Hawke, Bull raised an eyebrow. "Okay?" 

She shrugged. "It used to drive Varric _crazy_ when he'd have me read his writing, because as I'm sure you already know, he likes over-dramatic endings while I adore incredibly saccharine happy endings."

"There is a point to this, right?" Bull asked, his voice deadpan. 

Hawke stared for a moment before she smiled at him. "I'm just trying to figure out what is stopping you from getting your happy ending."

"Can't say I know what you're talking about."

Leaning into his personal space, Hawke winked at Bull. "Oh we both know that you do. And I'd like to think that _anyone_ who watched you and the Inquisitor dance knows exactly what I am talking about. So tell me, is it out of pity, because you know that the Commander also being afflicted with a bit of a crush on her himself? Or is it some sort of Qunari practice to torture yourself so that you can kill more effectively?"

"Take your pick," he bitingly replied. Bull banged the wine bottle hard on the battlements. "I'll leave you the bottle," he said, pushing passed Hawke. 

As walked by, Hawke grabbed his arm. " _Wait._ It wasn't my intention to offend you."

"You didn't," he replied quickly. Squaring his shoulders to make himself seem taller, Bull glared over his shoulder at the Champion. "Look, don't assume you know what's going on between me and the boss, alright?"

Despite his efforts to intimidate her, Hawke held fast to his arm. "I only—" She let out a long sigh. "While our situations are a bit different, I see a lot of my past self in that Inquisitor of yours. Being suddenly placed in a position of power is hard. You're surrounded by so many people, but its lonelier than ever. I can tell you want to help her but, standing back doesn't help. No matter how much you think it does. Just—" her voice cracked. "I don't want you regret doing nothing when you could have been there for her."

Pulling away from her touch, Bull turned to look Hawke in the eyes. "Speaking from experience?"

Hawke looked away sheepishly, a blush tinting her cheeks pink. "Something like that," she mumbled in reply. "I lost three years because of waiting. Not to mention what was lost to his ridiculous ideals. I could go on for hours about how waiting didn't help anyone."

"Yeah, but where is this guy now?" Bull said, shrugging. If drawing her attention away from the conversation was the only way they were going to stop talking about Lavellan, then so be it. It'd be worth his time to collect some information on the Champion of Kirkwall. "You came to Skyhold alone. So unless he's up in a cave somewhere in Crestwood..."

Her head turned back toward Bull, her expression quickly turning to a glare. "He's _safe_. I prefer to not have the love of my life anywhere near where Corypheus may strike. I'm sure you can understand."

Bull took a deep breath as he tried not to think about the fall of Haven, tried not to think about the fight still ahead. Lavellan would have to face down Corypheus once again, and that was a terrifying thought. Bull pushed it away. "So what happens when this love of your life figures out you're here?"

Hawke considered for a moment. "I'll probably run. Varric wasn't over-exaggerating Fenris' habit of pulling beating hearts out of people."

Bull blinked. He wasn't sure if he was horrified or impressed. "Your guy sounds very... charming."

A wistful smile formed on Hawke's lips as her expression softened. "Yes, he rather is, actually. And I do miss him terribly. But Corypheus is my responsibility, and I won't endanger Fenris..." She shook her head. "But we aren't talking about me. We're talking about this limbo you've found yourself in. You're a big strong Qunari—"

"Tal-Vashoth," Bull corrected, gritting his teeth. It still stung, but the sooner he came to terms with it, the better.

Hawke blinked. "Oh? Right. Well. So that friendly visit earlier—"

"Yeah." Bull waved his hand. "Feel free to keep your distance. I won't take offense. Everyone knows how many Tal-Vashoth you killed back in your heyday of your Kirkwall adventures, so—"

"Only because they were trying to kill me first," Hawke said with a huff. "Is _that_ why you're keeping Lavellan at a distance? No, it can't be. You weren't Tal-Vashoth when I arrived."

Bull let out a quiet sigh. "It's not like that. It's just... you know... _complicated_." 

And was that ever an understatement. It would be so much easier if he could just explain it, though— and was rather surprised that Varric hadn't. After all, the dwarf was there when they made the bet. Bull was sure that Varric would have told the Champion over drinks. It was an interesting twist in his story about the Herald, after all. 

Chortling, Hawke looked at Bull incredulously. "Pretty sure I'm fluent in complicated. Especially when it comes to matters in love. Or lack there of," she said with a shrug. 

Bull considered Hawke for a moment. "I may've made a wager with Solas about the boss."

"That elven mage, right? Only sees things in Fade-tinted glasses?"

Leaning forward, Bull snorted. "Yeah, that's him. We made a bet about the boss at the Winter Palace."

"So?"

"I guess it goes further than that." He let out a long sigh. "Red— Leliana asked me to _help_ with the Inquisitor."

" _Help_ ," Hawke repeated.

"The boss was a little... guarded when everything started. Very, _very_ shy. When she was named Inquisitor, it got even worse. But since an elven mage was quickly becoming one of the most influential people in Thedas, that wouldn't do. So Leliana asked me to help her become more... confident."

Hawke stared, her eyes widening as she began to understand what Bull was implying. "By treating her with compliments. Getting close and being kind to her," she said with a loud sigh. "I see."

"I never meant—" Bull shook his head. "I wanted to help the boss. I could see that she had it in her, but she wasn't willing to step up. Things got a little out of hand, I got a little too close, but that's why I backed away. I don't want to hurt her." 

Hawke slid in closer to him, giving him a knowing look. "Because you've realized that you actually _do_ care for her. Very much so, if I were to make a guess. Am I right?" 

"I want her to be happy. Not sure if that's the same thing."

"Even if it meant that you stay out of the picture?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. Bull nodded. "I hate to tell you, but that's pretty much the definition of loving someone."

" _If_ I..." Bull felt the word catch in his throat. Clearing his throat, he decided to go with a different word. "... _felt_ that way, I would've never made that bet to begin with, right?"

Chuckling, Hawke shook her head. "You sound pretty remorseful about it now though."

"Of course I do! I feel like a total asshole about it! It was talking shit. I wanted to knock Solas off his stupid high horse. And that just makes all of it worse."

Nodding, Hawke considered his words for a few moments before taking another deep drink of the wine. "You should tell her about the wager."

Bull scoffed. "Why? So that she _also_ would think I'm an asshole?"

" _No_ , because she's going to find out about it eventually. Would you rather tell her about it yourself, or have her hear rumors about it around Skyhold?"

"She'll hate me."

"You never know," Hawke said tilting her head to the side. "If there's one thing in my time here I've learned, it's that Lavellan appreciates honesty."

"You make it sound so easy," Bull countered, taking the wine bottle from Hawke's hands. He brought it up to his lips and tilted the bottle back, only to realize that Hawke had already emptied it. Making a face, he slammed the now empty bottle down on the stone battlement. 

"The things that are worth it are never easy," Hawke said, patting Bull pityingly on the shoulder. "Or they wouldn't be worth the effort."

 

3.

Liadan stayed up on the battlements for some time, simply watching the mountains as the wind blew through her hair. She wanted made sure to take her time coming back to the main part of the castle. The last thing she wanted to do was run into Iron Bull again, coming or going. She'd had enough of her heart and head being confused for one day. Once the chill of the cold winds crept up her neck, however, it was time to go inside. 

She took the back way in, via Cullen's office, which was still empty. When she entered the rotunda, she saw Solas look away from sketching the next part of his mural on the wall. "Good afternoon, Inquisitor," he said, stepping away from the wall. He climbed down from the scaffold. "You look a little pale. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she nodded, keeping her face turned away. Solas was almost as good at spotting lies than the Iron Bull. She approached Solas' desk, curious as to what he was working on. There was what looked like an instructional book on Orlesian mannerisms, and another lying open that was an Orlesian dictionary. "I see that you're getting prepared for Halamshiral."

He nodded. "It is quickly approaching."

"Don't remind me," Liadan said, walking away from the desk with a sigh. "There's still so much that needs to be done before we leave."

"You'll somehow pull through." She looked over to him to see Solas giving her a small encouraging smile. "You always do."

Liadan gave a bitter laugh. "One way or the other. Hopefully it's not like the last party we had here," she said with a small shiver. "I'm not sure the Orlesian royalty will look kindly on me setting fire to someone."

Shaking his head, Solas chuckled. "I suppose that all depends on who it would be that you'd set fire to. As it was, there were no complaints about desRosier, as I recall. Perhaps you will be just as lucky in Halamshiral."

"I can never tell if you're teasing me or trying to be supportive," she said, giving him a suspicious look. 

Solas tipped his head to the side. "Can it not be both?" Liadan gritted her teeth in annoyance, making Solas chuckle again. "Come, let us take a stroll around the garden. I've been meaning to talk to you about your preparation progress."

Nodding, she gestured towards the door. "Alright. So long as it's not about dresses."

With an amused snort, Solas shook his head. "No, not quite. I am sure that everyone is now well aware of your petulance towards dresses. Although you did look magnificent at the desRosier affair, if I'm being completely honest."

"I'm still not wearing layers of skirts while we will be trying to prevent an assassination," she said as they walked out of the rotunda into the main hall. 

"Although that would be an impressive sight." He glanced over to Liadan with an amused expression on his face as he pushed the door to the garden open. "Are you sure?"

" _Solas_ ," she said in a warning tone as they walked into the garden. 

Solas bowed his head in a mock apology before taking the lead. "I was wondering who you were planning to take to the Winter Palace? After all, your traveling party is also going to reflect on you in the eyes of the Court."

"Oh," Liadan said, feeling her face heat up. She looked away from him and made a beeline for her garden. She wasn't sure if checking on the plants would distract her enough, but it was worth a shot. "I'm not sure yet," she said as she knelt over the garden. The dawn lotus were just about to bloom. With a chuckle, she asked, "Are you volunteering? Because I would have thought that Orlesian Court would be the last place you would want to be."

"On the contrary," Solas replied. She heard him move behind her, and his shadow overtook where she was kneeling. "The machinations of any body of power are quite fascinating."

"Really?" Liadan looked over her shoulder. "Even if everyone there will be looking down on us just because the shame of our ears?"

"And how is that any different than behind these very walls?" he asked. "To our faces they might seem respectful, but once your back is turned... Besides, I have seen countless displays of their like in my journeys in the Fade. The power has always been the same. Only the costumes change."

Liadan let out a small hum as she brushed her knees off. "I suppose that is one way of looking at it." She pushed herself to standing. "If anything it was a nice evasion to my original question," she added with a smirk.

His lips tugging into a smug smile, Solas said, "What if I wanted to escort you? Would that be a problem?"

"Probably?" Liadan raised her eyebrows, more than a little shocked in Solas' boldness. "I wasn't really— Gaspard invited me, so I'll be going with—"

"And he will be involved in talks the entire evening with the Empress and Briala. So why not?" 

Her voice faltered for a moment. "I mean, you could come with me. Along with others. I just... We're going to go there to stop an assassination, not to wine and dine the nobles. I'll need backup in case something happens."

"You are also going as a presentation of the Inquisition's power," Solas said, moving in closer to Liadan. "Surely Leliana and Josephine have already mentioned it."

"A few times," Liadan said with a nervous laugh. "Along with Madame Vivienne." At the mention of the Enchantress' name, Solas bristled. Liadan took a step backward, trying to regain her personal space. "We may have gotten into a few arguments about it as well. I've already talked to Dorian and Varric about it, but I wasn't sure who to bring as my fourth. I really didn't think—" She looked up at him. "You really want to go?"

Solas closing the gap between them again. "It depends on whether I would be able to share a dance with you at some point during the proceedings."

"I—" Liadan took another step backward. However, the back of her legs collided with the lotus' pot. She felt herself lose balance, but Solas caught her easily. She looked up to thank Solas, but his intent stare made any of the words she was about to say dry up in her throat.

A large shadow covered the both of them. Liadan looked over Solas' shoulder to see the Iron Bull standing behind them. "What are you doing, Solas?" He seemed determined, if a little out of breath. Where had he come from so quickly? 

Solas gave Iron Bull an amused glance. "I'm having a discussion with the Inquisitor at the moment. Is that not allowed now?"

"That's not what it looks like from over here," Iron Bull let out a loud breath. "You okay, boss?"

"I'm fine," Liadan said nodding as she pulled away from Solas, stepping to the side. She did everything she possibly could to avoid looking Iron Bull in the eye. The last thing she wanted was for Iron Bull to be there to make things all the more awkward. Creators, how did she get herself into this mess?

As she moved away, Iron Bull glared at Solas. 

Scoffing, Solas shook his head. "If you must know, Iron Bull, I was simply volunteering to accompany the Inquisitor to Halamshiral."

Iron Bull blinked for a moment, a look of confusion quickly turning to shock. " _Accomp_ —" he pressed his lips together. "What a load of bullshit." 

Liadan tilted her head. "Sorry, how is Solas wanting to accompany me _bullshit_?"

"Because he—" Iron Bull hesitated. "You should—" He pressed his massive hand over his mouth and let it slowly slide down his face. He was clearly nervous— which was worrying in itself, because the Iron Bull never truly let you know what he was feeling unless there was a reason. "I mean wouldn't he be distracting when the attention needs to be on you?"

"Does that mean you are volunteering?" Solas raised an eyebrow. "Do you think a giant Qunari would be less distracting?"

"I'm _Tal-Vashoth_ now. And at least I would be helpful on the floor. Leliana won't be able to have eyes everywhere."

Scoffing, Solas rolled his eyes. "You're implying I would not? I may have different means, but I can be just as useful, Iron Bull." Solas took a step towards Iron Bull, his head tilted to the side. "Or perhaps you are objecting because you are still trying to fulfill that ridiculous wager of yours?"

Liadan blinked. "What wager?"

Solas shook his head. "The Iron Bull boasted that he alone would be the one to help you succeeding in The Game at Halamshiral. He wants to take you to ensure that he wins the wager. What he fails to realize is that you need no one to enrapture the Court." He turned to Iron Bull and glared. "She is not a tool for you to use."

Liadan stared hard at Bull, her eyes wide. "Is that true? All this... was because of a bet? A _fucking_ bet?" Her voice quivered as she felt the tears forming.

To his credit, Iron Bull kept his eye locked with hers. He took a deep breath in before letting out the word, "Yes."

She shook her head, still not understanding what she was hearing. "Why would you—"

"Red was worried about the Winter Palace," he explained. His voice was detached. Even when he seemed like he didn't want to talk to her, he had always been at least kind to her. This was new. "She asked me to help you become... more confident," Bull continued, finally looking away from her. "I knew I could— I never meant for it to... I never meant—" He cut himself off, shaking his head. It was clear he wanted to say more, but instead he pushed his lips together and let out a long breath out of his nose.

Solas sneered. "Because manipulation is something you excel at greatly, _Tal-Vasshoth_ or no."

"Seriously, _mage_ ," Iron Bull said through gritted teeth. "Not the time."

Liadan stared at Iron Bull. She could feel the tears forming in her eyes, and Creators, she didn't care if she cried or not. But not in front of him. 

She wouldn't show Iron Bull any weakness— not after this.

With a loud sniff, she turned away and ran through the garden. She bumped into a few nobles having a conversation under the veranda, but didn't even acknowledge them, much less apologize. She needed to get out of there. 

From behind her, she could hear the Iron Bull shouting her name, but she still didn't stop. She flung the door to the entrance hall open and ran through. " _Liadan!_ " 

It was the first time he had called her by her given name. Before this, she would have given anything to hear him say it. But now, it only cut her deeper. "Leave me alone!" She pushed her way into the entrance. Their raised voices drew the attention of everyone in the hallway. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see even Varric look up from his pen and paper. 

"Liadan, wait!" Iron Bull said as he caught up with her. He grabbed her arm. "Let me—"

"Fen'herel take you! _Ma harel lasa!_ " she spat, yanking her arm out of his grip. Fury boiling through her veins, she added, "Gatt was right, you _are_ a liar."

The Iron Bull recoiled like she had struck him with a lightning bolt. For a moment, she felt terrible. She reached out to him, to apologize. The hurt look on his face told Liadan that she had gone way too far. But he had hurt her just as much. 

It explained so much. All that time, he had been playing with her heart. All of it, was a lie. 

Shaking her head at him, she turned and ran to her quarters. 

The Iron Bull did not follow.


	9. Chapter 9

1.

It was the warmest night in weeks, now that they were finally free of the Frostbacks' bitter winds. The closer they got to Halamshiral, the more temperate the air became, and Bull wholly welcomed the change. The fire in front of him crackled as he watched the Inquisition troops slowly start to settle in for the evening after a long day of traveling.

The following day they would reach the Winter Palace, and that evening, the Inquisitor would be presented to the Empress. And from there, Bull still wasn't really sure. 

For his part, the trip to Halamshiral could only be described as a cluster-fuck. Bull had spent time in awkward adventuring companies, but the week-long dredge to Halamshiral was downright torture. Of course, Red had insisted that the entire inner circle make the journey— despite not everyone going _into_ the Winter Palace. And while she claimed it was so they could support the Inquisitor— Bull knew it was just to mess with his head. Leliana hadn't taunted him about the wager with Solas blowing up in his face, but from the knowing looks she kept sending his way, he could tell it was coming. 

In camp, Bull did his best to stay as far away from Lavellan as he could. It was made easier by the fact that she clearly didn't want to have a thing to do with him either. Bull had tried _several times_ before they left Skyhold to sit her down and apologize about the whole mess— to try to explain the emptiness he felt now she would have nothing to do with him. He felt rudderless in a storm, and needed her to at least understand that everything he said to her was true. But Lavellan wouldn't even look at him, and it was pretty hard to have a heart to heart with someone who wouldn't acknowledge his existence. 

" _Lathbora viran_?" Dalish had blinked at him owlishly when he finally had gotten a chance to ask her what it meant. "Did the Herald say that to you?" 

Iron Bull stared at Dalish, pressing his lips into a line. He had no intention of putting voice to such an obvious answer. 

Dalish frowned. "That's... I'm sorry, Ser. _Lathbora viran_ is a saying the Dalish have. It's hard to translate it directly into Trade, but the closest I could say would be... the path to a place of lost love?" She gave him a sympathetic look. "We use it when describing longing for a thing one can never really know."

That was something he wished he knew a little sooner. Like when Lavellan had initially said it to him on the barracks. He wasn't sure he would have done the right thing, but damn, he could have at least made things clear then. He could have told her about the bet _then_ , and prevented the shitstorm. 

As it pained Bull to admit it, Hawke had been right.

When they camped, Lavellan kept to her tent or Dorian's side mostly, sometimes at the same time. And Dorian, well— Bull was waiting to wake up with his tent on fire since the whole wager came out into the open. 

Varric joined Bull by the fire, Hawke in tow. Bull had expressed his open opposition to the Champion of Kirkwall being the Inquisitor's fourth when the night should have focused on the Inquisitor, but Red was insistent. "It will be a grand show of the support the Inquisitor has gathered," Leliana had argued. They would find out who was right once they got to the Winter Palace. 

The dwarf let out a sigh as he sat down. Hawke joined him by the fire, looking at Bull with a pitying expression. "Snowflake still not talking to you, huh?" Varric asked as he looked over to the Inquisitor's tent. The flaps were shut, but a light was glowing from within. From the silhouettes, it was clear that Dorian and Lavellan were both in there. No doubt, planning some terrible revenge on Bull. Not that he didn't think that he deserved it. 

Bull grunted. "I'm pretty sure she's never going to talk to me again, so cut the crap and just come out with what you want to say, Varric."

Hawke leaned back, using her arms to support her. "You need to just give her some time, Iron Bull." 

"Oh?" Bull asked, feigning interest. "And how long should that be? Until I'm dead?"

"I _did_ warn you about the potential mess."

"And you've done nothing to help me to get out of said mess, despite everything I told you. So why should I give a crap about anything _you_ say, Champion?" Bull said with a glare. 

Hawke shook her head. "I can't make her forgive you."

"Hawke's right," Varric said, nodding. "Snowflake needs to work out some things. As much as you want to take the credit for making her fall for you, I can tell you—" he snorted. "This was going on long before you made that bet with Chuckles. It just took longer for the two of you to catch up to how the other felt."

Bull put both of his hands out in front of him. "Can you _stop_? You don't know what you're talking about and it's just—"

Scoffing, Varric crossed his arms over his chest. "Please, Tiny— My romance serial might be shit, but that doesn't mean I don't know how this sort of thing goes. Why do you think Snowflake took Redcliffe so hard?"

Narrowing his eye, Bull shook his head. "Maybe because she saw some terrible shit? She saw friends die for her, even if it was all undone by that time magic or whatever, she couldn't unsee it."

"Yet she was able to at least talk to me afterward. There was a few times where she teared up, but she managed. If my memory serves, Snowflake couldn't even look you in the eye for quite a while."

" _And_?" 

Varric leaned closer to Bull, the fire letting off a loud crack as he did so. "Andraste's tits, there's no way a former Ben-Hassrath can be so blind to what's right in front of him! You mean to tell me that on that day in Haven, when she appeared out of the blizzard barely alive, you felt _nothing_?"

Bull pressed his lips together. "Relief? Pretty sure we all did though. Didn't you?" 

"Of course I did. But you were the one who carried her all the way back to the camp, and didn't leave her side until she was warm again."

"Well I didn't see anyone else stepping up to do it," Bull said, shaking his head. 

Letting out an amused snort, Hawke shook her head in disbelief. "You _couldn't_ have been the only one capable of carrying someone as tiny as the Inquisitor. I'm sure the Commander is quite capable, not to mention all of the Inquisitions soldiers."

Glancing over to Hawke, Varric said, "Tiny here may have out paced everyone running to her."

Bull had done his very best to try not to think about that night. How cold her body was as he carried her down to the camp. She was shivering. There were not many times in his life that Bull could honestly say that he was terrified, but that night, wondering if she was going to survive until sunrise, was one of them. "I think my memory of the night might be a bit clearer than yours. She had just walked out a fucking avalanche. She was in rough shape, and could barely stand. She needed a fire, not a committee to discuss how we were going to get her back to the camp. After all, she dies and we're all screwed. You remember that part right?"

Flashing a knowing smile, Varric said, "Then why did you have the same expression on your face that day we took the fort in Crestwood?"

Bull growled. How was any of this supposed to help him now? "Does it matter?"

Hawke hummed in amusement. "I told you Varric. It's adorable, isn't it?"

Laughing, Varric slapped his knee. "Not as great as watching you and Broody moon over each other for _years_ , but it's up there."

"Hey," Hawke said in mock offense, "I was perfectly clear on my feelings from the beginning. It was Fen—"

Varric laughed again. "Keep telling yourself that, Hawke." He looked back over to Bull. "Look, Tiny— I get it. I really do. Your bravado outmatched your good sense. I see it all the time with guys like you."

Bull interrupted, "Guys like—"

Giving Bull a knowing look, Varric continued, "But what matters now is what you're going to do about it. Sulking over here alone by the fire isn't going to solve your problems."

"Haven't I done enough to her? I'd be willing to bet that she wants me to leave her alone for good now."

"Who knew you were so bad at bets?" Varric smirked. "If that was the case, she probably wouldn't have been talking to Nightingale during dinner about getting you into the palace tomorrow night."

Bull blinked. "You must have heard wrong. The Chargers and I are running security around the perimeter until we get the signal from Cullen. That was decided before we left." And after the whole mess was exposed, which wasn't surprising, really. Bull wouldn't want to have anything to do with him either after that.

"The Chargers are," the dwarf said, nodding. "You, however, are the Inquisitor's _bodyguard_ , and since the Inquisitor's life will probably be in as much danger as the Empress', it's important that you aren't somewhere outside wandering around."

If true, Bull had an inkling there was a bit more to the story. He fought back the urge to hope. He only needed a chance to apologize to her. If they had to start all over, he'd do that no problem. He if he could just _talk_ to her—

Chiming in, Hawke winked at Bull. "At least, that's what I told the Inquisitor this afternoon while we were traveling. I hope I wasn't overstepping my bounds? The Inquisitor seemed to agree with me, regardless. So it seems you'll have to suffer through the Orlesian nobles, just like we do."

And there it was. Taken back, Bull blinked at Hawke. "I thought you—"

"You just assumed I wasn't doing anything to help you," Hawke said with a smirk. "It didn't mean I wasn't. But you're right, I don't know you or the Inquisitor well enough to approach her outright."

"So I may have helped a bit as well," Varric said with a shrug. "You can return the favor some other time."

Hawke chuckled. "Careful, Iron Bull. It sounds like Varric is playing an idea for a book."

"What can I say? I think it'd be a big hit. A secret affair between the Inquisitor and her most trusted Qunari bodyguard! The bodyguard throws away the ties to his people just to stay with her while she risks her life to save Thedas. _That_ is a page turner."

"For Cassandra, maybe," Hawke said, stifling a snicker behind her hand. 

"Regardless—" Varric shook his hands in front of him. "It's the least I can do to help. Snowflake does so much for us already. Being Inquisitor is the ultimate thankless job. All of us just want to see her happy. But we can only get you there, Tiny. It'll be up to you not to make this mess worse."

"Not sure if that's possible, but I'll do what I can," Bull said with a nod. "Thanks."

Just then the flaps to the Inquisitor's tent opened. Bull glanced over to see Dorian getting out of the tent. He glared at Bull before stomping over to the fire. Even with Bull sitting and Dorian standing, the height difference wasn't much at all. "I don't know what you're playing at, but I won't let you break her heart twice. Do you hear me?"

"Dorian," Hawke said with a frown. "You know it isn't—"

" _What?_ " Bull asked. He knew was getting angrier than he should have about the Vint's goading, but at the moment, there was nothing he wanted to do about it. 

Dorian's eyes narrowed in return. An angry Tal-Vashoth in his face didn't even make him flinch. "This whole bodyguard nonsense. I don't know _why_ you find it so important to come to the Winter Palace."

Trying to interject, Varric cleared his throat. "Sparkler—"

But that was as far as he got before Dorian turned on Varric as well. "Don't think I don't know that you were part of all this. You may have not participated in the stupid wager, but you were complacent with it nonetheless. You know about everything in Skyhold. You could have told all of us about this a lot sooner and saved Liadan some heartbreak." Dorian gave Varric such a cold glare, that Vivienne would have been proud. Putting his hands up in surrender, Varric leaned back and kept his peace. Once he was silenced, Dorian turned his attention back towards Bull. "Well?"

"Maybe you forgot, _Vint_ , but I _am_ her bodyguard," Bull said, grinding his teeth. 

"Oh!" Scoffing, Dorian shook his head. "And still he persists! Tell me then, _The_ Iron Bull— how can you call yourself her bodyguard, when it seems like _you_ are the one we should be protecting her from?"

Stepping out of her tent, Lavellan stood up straight and said, "Dorian, stop." The mage looked over to her, as did Bull. He felt a surge of guilt at her sullen expression.

"Liadan," Dorian said, walking towards her. "You don't need to—" 

Her expression sad, she shook her head. "I won't have us all at each other's throats, either. We're all on the same side. We need to prevent the Empress' assassination— which we won't be able to do unless we work together."

Dorian rolled his eyes, making a small production of it. "And where did this voice of reason come from? A few weeks as Inquisitor, and my little Liadan has grown up." He cupped Lavellan's cheeks and made a kissy face at her. "I'd almost be proud, if it wasn't so damned responsible of you. But alas! Hopefully, when this is all said and done tomorrow evening, we can have some fun for once." He looked towards Bull again and glared before heading towards his own tent.

Lavellan slowly walked over to the fire, keeping her eyes on Bull. Her expression was hard for him to get a read on, though. She was clearly, and understandably, still upset at him— that much was clear. But there was something else that he couldn't quite put his finger on. She looked to Varric and Hawke. "Could you give us a moment?" she asked.

Pushing himself to standing, Varric gave a knowing smile. "Of course, Snowflake." Nodding in agreement, Hawke stood up as well.

As the two left, Lavellan looked over to Bull for a moment, and then diverted her eyes to the fire. "I apologize for Dorian's behavior," she said, her voice barely a whisper.

Bull shrugged. "He's looking out for you in the way he thinks best. He cares about you, and that's important. Can't say I'm a fan of him trying to chew me out, but I've had worse, boss— believe me."

"I'm sure you've already heard," she said, eying where Varric and Hawke had gone. "But if you are amiable to it, I would like for you to join us tomorrow night in the palace as my bodyguard."

"You're asking me yourself?" Bull said, raising an eyebrow.

"Would you have accepted if anyone else approached you about it?" 

Bull considered this for a moment. "Probably not. If it was Red or Josie, I would've figured it was their idea with or without your approval."

"I wanted to make sure that you knew I was all right with the decision. We may not be on... good terms at the moment, Iron Bull. And I haven't..." she sighed deeply. "But tomorrow is very important. And I can put my... personal... feelings aside to ensure the safety of Orlais' future."

Nodding, a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Spoken like a true leader, _Inquisitor_. Keep that up, and they'll never see you coming tomorrow night."

She returned his smile, but Bull could tell her heart wasn't in it. The tightness in her shoulders gave away how uncomfortable she was with this whole situation. "Let's hope so."

Standing up, Bull took a few steps towards Lavellan. "Boss— when this is over—"

"When this is over," she repeated, finally looking him directly in the eye. "The Bull's Chargers are free to leave the Inquisition at their leisure."

"What?" Bull's forehead furrowed.

Lavellan took a deep breath. "You are no longer part of the Qun. You don't have orders to stay with us anymore. I'm sure there is more coin to be found elsewhere." She was talking too fast. It was worrying. He'd seen her nervous before, but this...

" _Okay_... But what if the Chargers are fine where they are?"

Laughing nervously, she shook her head. "You don't have to stay. There's nothing keeping you here."

"Yes there is, boss," he said, his eye boring into her. When this was over, they needed to have a long talk about all of this crap. Bull needed to say some things that Lavellan probably wouldn't be happy with, but he needed her to hear them.

Her nostrils flared. "Your little bet is over. You don't have to pretend anymore." 

"Who says I was pretending?"

" _I do_. And don't think that I've forgiven you for all of this."

"I haven't asked you to."

Glaring at him, Lavellan said, "I'm well aware."

Bull clenched his jaw. "You really haven't given me a chance to—"

She held up her hand for silence. "Creators help me if you say anything about _explaining_ — as if there was _any_ good explanation! Do you have any idea how I feel right now?" she asked, squeezing her hands into fists. 

"Boss—"

"I'll see you tomorrow, Iron Bull." Before Bull could do anything else, she had turned away and walked back to her tent, leaving Bull standing out in the night air alone. 

"Well," a cold voice cut through the silence. Bull whirled around to see Vivienne walking out from the cover of shadow. He was far more distracted then he thought he was if he didn't realize there was someone else watching them. He'd have to be more careful in the Winter Palace. "That could have done better, my dear," she said with a knowing smile. 

"Yes, Ma'am," Bull nodded. Without even thinking, he straightened his posture immediately as she reached where he was standing. It was something he did every time his Tama would be in sight, because she would get on his case if he slouched. Vivienne knew that her authoritative air threw him off balance, and took advantage of it— as she did with any opportunity that showed itself. She would have made a perfect Qunari, really. But Bull had learned his lesson about expressing that idea out loud to her. It didn't end well. "We were just—"

"—Arguing? At least that's better the silent treatment that she's been giving you since your little wager with Solas came into the open." She smirked at Bull's surprised expression. "Oh, don't give me that look Bull, darling. You know that I have my methods of getting information. They may not be as blunt as the Ben-Hassrath, but I do have them. The point is, you've hurt her. Deeply. And you're going to have to eat crow for a while until she forgives you."

" _If_ she forgives me. I know _I_ wouldn't forgive me."

"Yes, well the Inquisitor is a far more forgiving soul than you or I are, so I do think she will come around eventually to let you apologize. She almost gave you an opening right there, but I think she wants to stew about in her anger a bit more before letting this all go."

Bull raised an eyebrow. "I'm glad this is amusing for you."

"Oh darling, don't be silly. I've been trying to get her to admit her feelings for you for weeks. At least then she could _focus_ on the task at hand. Which is exactly what you need to do tomorrow." 

"Of course I am. I wouldn't let anything—"

"—I'm not talking about protecting her, darling," Vivienne interrupted. "I'm talking about making an impression on the Court. And on _her_."

His brow furrowed. "You aren't suggesting what I think you're suggesting, are you, Ma'am?" 

Vivienne smiled. "Just a few _minor_ tweaks. I promise."

 

2.

Giving her uniform shirt a tug, Liadan nervously looked around the entrance gardens as Duke Gaspard walked away from her and into the receiving area. She was surrounded by a sea of masks, all watching her with piqued interest. There were more than a few circles of nobles openly gossiping about her— remarking on her ears and her wild looks. 

"Is that the Inquisitor?"

"An elf savage! Marker forbid!"

"This is Gaspard's idea of a joke!"

Straightening her posture, Liadan walked towards the gates where Josephine was waiting for her. She tried to think back to the desRosier party, and how powerful she felt as she and Dorian walked through the party. The uniform that she and Josephine agreed upon was wonderful, and was a much welcomed improvement from the yards of fabric in that blasted dress. But something was missing from what she had that night, and she wasn't sure what it was. 

Josephine gave her a small smile as she approached. "If I could have a moment, Inquisitor?" She put a reassuring hand on the Liadan's shoulder. "Do not forget anything that I have taught you, Inquisitor. It could be the difference between life and death in there."

Putting her hand on top of Josephine's, Liadan shook her head. "I'll be sure to keep my guard up, Josephine. I couldn't have had a better teacher."

"The Game is like Wicked Grace played to the death," Josephine said as she pulled her hand away. "You must _never_ reveal your cards." Liadan felt her heart pang at her words. After all, the Iron Bull had said similar words to her that night in her quarters. Josephine continued on, not noticing the change in the Inquisitor's expression. "When you meet the Empress, the eyes of the entire court will be upon you. You were safer standing down Corypheus."

Nodding, Liadan replied, "It might be a good idea for the others to hear this warning too. The Iron Bull, in particular."

A small knowing smile formed on Josephine's lips. "I'll make sure to have a few discreet words." She tilted her head to the side, looking hesitant. "I know it's not my place, but I think it's for the best that he joins us tonight."

Liadan's eyes narrowed. "I hope you are referring to how helpful he'll be in assessing the situation. While he isn't Ben-Hassrath anymore, he's still a trained spy."

"Of course," Josephine said with a nod. "Although, if I might be so bold, I would advise that you might perhaps consider sharing a dance with him at some point in the evening?" 

" _Josephine_ ," Liadan said in a warning tone.

"It's only a suggestion... but it could provide an excellent distraction, and may win some nobles to your side if the two of you dance as beautifully as you did in Skyhold. I could arrange for the Dance of Six Candles—" 

"We're _not_ —" Liadan pressed her lips together. "We're here to stop an assassination, not to impress the court."

"Impressing the court will be vital to our success." The ambassador raised an eyebrow. "I'm merely suggesting that—"

" _Stop_ ," Liadan groaned. She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Just... stop, alright? I'm nervous enough as it is to start thinking about... that mess. The Iron Bull will be here tonight as my bodyguard. Nothing else."

Josephine shook her head. "My apologies. I did not mean to offend you, Inquisitor. I will not mention it again." She took a deep breath. "Go on inside. I won't be far behind. Duke Gaspard will accompany you inside the ballroom. Be sure to wait until you are announced. Everything will be fine." She gave the Liadan a reassuring smile, and gestured for her to go ahead. As Liadan passed her into the vestibule, she heard the ambassador mutter to herself, "Andraste watch over us all." 

When they entered the vestibule, a feeling of dread sank in Liadan's stomach as the gravity of where they were standing truly dawned on her. She'd seen homes in Orlais, traveled through Val Royeaux, but none of it prepared her for the ornate architecture of the Winter Palace. The lovely royal blue curtains were the perfect accent against the ornate gold intertwined into the railing and towering columns. Liadan suddenly felt overwhelmed by being surrounded by such grandeur. And they were only in the receiving area. Hesitating, she looked back to the garden, and wondered if it was too late to change her mind. 

She took a deep breath and slowly walked forward. Each step seemed like a struggle, but she could do it. She had to.

A large gloved hand gently wrapped around her right arm. It stopped her from walking into two rather important looking nobles, if their elaborate golden masks were any indication of their status.

Liadan looked up to the Iron Bull holding her arm. And he was wearing a shirt. More than that— he was wearing _the uniform_. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she reasoned that of course he was, because Josephine and she had decided that they would present a united front, so everyone would wear the uniform. But for some reason, seeing the Iron Bull in it completely took her aback. She also noticed that his beard was cleaned and trimmed, and his horns were buffed and waxed. Instead of wearing his usual eyepatch, he wore an ornate gold and silver eyepatch, decorated with dawnstone inlays. She made a surprised sound. "B-Bull?"

"Hey boss." He smirked at her. "Impressed? It seems you're not the only one who cleans up well, huh? It's all right if you stare." 

Liadan felt her cheeks flush. She took a step back, pulling her arm out of his reach. "I wasn't—" _She completely was._ She tried again, "You just surprised me, that's all. I didn't realize you had arrived." _And I thought you'd be far away from me after last night_ , she added silently. She hadn't been kind to him on purpose. It'd be easier for the both of them if he kept his distance from her.

Bull took her cue and took a step away, crossing his arms against his chest. It didn't help Liadan's crisis at all. When Josephine had initially showed her the design for the uniform they would be wearing, Liadan was convinced that no one could make that cut look flattering. But somehow Bull did. The uniform made his shoulders seem even wider and intimidating than usual, but the tight sash tied around his waist was picturesque. And his boots— well, she tried not to stare. Liadan knew Vivienne had to be behind his transformation. He looked too good for her not to be, but the dawnstone was the obvious piece.

Bull raised an eyebrow at her, and only then did she realize that she was, in fact, staring. Liadan turned her head to the right, looking instead at nearby painting. "Red sent me in to tell you that the perimeter looks good," he said, sounding a little amused. "So we're ready whenever you are."

Sighing, Liadan pinched the bridge of her nose. If she was going to have to defend herself on a second front the entire evening from the intentions of others wanting her to forgive the Iron Bull, then so be it. "Is there anything I should know about?"

"There's something going on with the servants. I can get a good read on what, but it's obvious they're nervous about something. The conventional way to sneak assassins in would be from the servant's quarters, but this is Orlais where they like to make a show of killing each other, so who knows. Sera's already gone to investigate it, just to make sure. For now, as your _bodyguard_ , I'd say don't drink anything the servants are bringing around. Just until we know what's going on."

Liadan risked a glance to find the Iron Bull staring intently at her. "You really think Corypheus would simply poison me?"

"No, but that doesn't mean some other asshole wouldn't take the opportunity when presented," he said, shrugging. "It's an open secret that something big is going to go down tonight. There are others who would... just don't, okay? If you get thirsty, find me and _I'll_ get the drink."

The worried tone in his voice got her attention. She finally looked back over to him, focusing on the blue sash tied around his chest instead of his face. "Are you all right?" she asked. 

He grunted. "I'll be better when this is finished. It's a mess to get a read on anyone in here. Everyone's trying so hard to hide that they're walking around in plumage. Makes it tough to spot the dangerous lies, as opposed to the normal stuff." 

From across the vestibule, Gaspard signaled the Inquisitor to join him. Liadan nervously chewed her lip. 

Adjusting his blue sash, Bull added, "I know you're still mad at me, but just be careful tonight, alright? I don't trust Gaspard to not pull something. He had a reason in inviting the Inquisition here, and it was more than to just piss off some nobles."

"I will," she said, nodding. "Now I really should—"

Giving an elaborate wave of his hand, Bull gave a small bow— mimicking the bow Gaspard had given her in the garden. "Of course, _Inquisitor_."

As she walked past, Liadan gave Bull an annoyed look.

Holding his hand out, Gaspard waited patiently for her. "My lady, are you prepared to shock the court by walking into the Grand Ball with a hateful usurper?"

"As much as I am sure you are prepared to walk with a Dalish mage who shocked the Chantry," Liadan replied, taking his hand. 

Gaspard guffawed. "They will be telling stories of this into the next age. Come, my Lady. The Empress awaits." He signaled for the Lord Steward to ready the announcement as they walked out of the vestibule and into the Grand Ballroom. The Lord Steward bowed to the both of them and made his way over to the railing to make the announcement. Gaspard bowed his head and walked forward first. 

Hundreds of nobles awaited them, staring, with their masks glistening in the candlelights. Sweat pouring down her back, Liadan followed Gaspard's lead and slowly walked over to the grand stairs. 

"And now, presenting: Grand Duke Gaspard de Chalons." 

Gaspard bowed to the Empress, who was standing on the other side of the Grand Ballroom. She gave a small curtsy in return, but it wasn't hard for even Liadan to read the tension between the two cousins. The Lord Steward's voice rang out again, "And accompanying him, Lady Inquisitor Lavellan." That was her cue. Liadan began to walk down the staircase, trying not to focus on the sea of masks, but instead on the Empress. Holding her head high, Liadan stopped once she reached the landing. "Vanquisher of the rebel mages of Ferelden, crusher of the vile apostates of the Mage Underground!"

From behind her, she could hear Varric snicker. "This guy writes better fiction than I do."

"Champion of the Blessed Andraste herself!"

Chuckling, Gaspard held out his hand to Liadan. With a nervous glance to her advisors, she took his hand. Gaspard said nothing of her clear hesitation, but his grin grew wider. "Did you see their faces? Priceless."

Liadan wanted to ask how one was supposed to see the expressions behind masks, but the Lord Steward continued. "Accompanying the Inquisitor: Renowned author Varric Tethras. Head of noble House Tethras, Deshyr of Kirkwall to the Dwarven Merchant's Guild." Varric took his time stepping forward, soaking in all the excited whispers around the court. Liadan shook her head. As if Varric needed more encouragement to his ego.

"Lord Dorian Pavus, Member of the Circle of Vyrantium, son of Lord Magister Halward Pavus of Asariel." Dorian too reveled in the scandalous whispers, giving the crowd one of his most dazzling smiles as he sauntered down the staircase.

"The Iron Bull, bodyguard of the Inquisitor." As Iron Bull came down the stairs, and passed her on the landing, several of the nobles closest to where she was started to whisper. Liadan winced. She hoped they weren't talking about what happened at the desRosier party— or the implications thereafter. For his part, Iron Bull made sure to over exaggerate each step as he walked by, giving everyone in the Grand Ballroom a clear view of his accentuated shoulders and legs in the uniform. Liadan did her best not to stare. "Leader of the famed mercenary company Bull's Chargers. As the name might imply." There was a titter of laugher throughout the court. 

As the Lord Steward began to announce her advisors and Hawke, that was the cue for her and Gaspard to make their way to be received by the Empress. 

Gaspard tightened his grip on her hand. "Let us make this a night Orlais will not forget, my Lady."

Thankfully, the conversation with the Empress was brief. She looked more bemused than annoyed by the fact that the Inquisition had shown up to her peace talks. Liadan made sure to follow Josephine's advice to make polite conversation, instead of outright warning the Empress her life was in danger. While it would have been effective in the moment, it could jeopardize their mission for the evening. Not to mention, it was not an effective maneuver in The Game.

Once she had been received by Empress Celene, Liadan escaped as quickly as she could to the balcony gardens. The overwhelming sea of masks was bad enough as it was, but with what they were trying to prevent looming over them, as well as having to face her conflicting feelings about Bull, Liadan needed some cool air to help her get her wits about her again. 

As she walked into the gardens, a young lady with vibrant red hair and wearing a sparkling emerald dress came rushing over to her. "Lady Herald! Lady Herald! It _is_ you!"

Breaking into a smile, Liadan waved to the younger Lady Thibault. "Celeste! You look beautiful this evening! How are you?"

"Oh Lady Herald, awful!" she cried. "Just awful! Right after your party, Mama went behind my back and spoke with Lady Richelieu about suitors! She knows my heart belongs to my darling Jecin."

"Then why would she..."

"Mama disapproves of the match," Celeste said, frowning. "But that's not the worst of it. Just this morning, she told me that she and Papa have accepted an offer from that awful Lord desRosier!"

Josephine had mentioned something about speaking with Lady Richelieu about other potential matches after the disastrous party. Creators, did Josephine send Lady Richelieu in Celeste's direction instead? Was this Liadan's fault? "Oh. Celeste, that's—"

" _Terrible_ , I know!" Celeste cried, her eyes watery. "Oh Maker! What will I do, Lady Herald? I cannot marry that man. You _know_ how dreadful he is. Perhaps if you spoke with Mama, you could persuade her to see reason?"

Liadan blanched. "I'm not really sure if that's my place, Celeste. I mean—"

"My Lady Herald," Celeste said, grabbing Liadan's free hand and clenching it tightly. " _Please_. I implore you. You _must_ help me." 

"I'll see what I can do. But I can't make any promises. Your mother is only looking out for your best interests."

"Looking out for the best interests of the family, you mean. She disliked my Jecin from the start. The Leandres are not of the same status of the desRosier house, but I promise you, Jecin is a _good man_ , my Lady. I cannot standby and let his heart be broken."

At the words _good man_ , Liadan's eyes widened. She felt as though a lightning bolt had struck her. She thought of Bull out there on the battlements that day, and how lost he had looked. 

Shaking the vision out of her head, Liadan smiled sympathetically at Celeste. "I understand how you feel, but—"

Liadan felt a hand on her lower back. "I thought that was you, Lady Thibault," Dorian said, leaning his head over Liadan's shoulder. "Maker, you look stunning in that dress." He gave Liadan a side glance. "Don't you think so, Inquisitor?"

Nostrils flaring, Liadan said, "Yes, I—"

"Oh, Lord Pavus! Everything is so dreadful! My mother is trying to force me into marrying Lord desRosier!"

Dorian stepped out from behind Liadan. "How awful! For someone who has such a talent for dancing to be stuck with that artless man for the rest of you life. It must not be so! Surely the Inquisitor can do something to help you?" 

Liadan glared at her friend. "I'm not really sure I—"

Celeste tilted her head to the side. "Is it so unconventional for a noble to want to marry for love, my Lady? Surely, you desire to do the same?"

"Oh she certainly does," Dorian said, wrapping his arm around Liadan's waist. "Don't you, Inquisitor?"

Furrowing her brow, Liadan said, "It's not that simple. I-" 

Despite her ornate mask, Celeste batted her eyes at them. 

Rubbing her forehead, Liadan knew she was done for. There was no saying no to such a helpless plea. Especially when it was technically Liadan's fault that Celeste was in such a bind. Josephine was going to kill her. Or worse, force her to go through additional dance lessons. 

"Alright," Liadan sighed, relenting. "I cannot promise you anything, but I will see what I can do. Don't say anything to your mother yet. I will need to discuss the matter with my advisors first."

Celeste jumped towards Liadan. It was so sudden, that Liadan let out a surprised yelp as Celeste wrapped her arms around her in a hug. Dorian stepped back, ready to cast a spell if needed. And somewhere in the corner of her eye, Liadan saw Iron Bull making his way towards them. "Oh _thank you_ , Lady Herald! Thank you so much!"

Liadan's nerves slowly registered that she was being hugged and not attacked. She let out a snort as her shoulders relaxed, and she returned the hug. "Really, Celeste—"

Beside them, Dorian laughed. He dramatically put his hand over his chest. "Maker, I think I just lost a year of my life."

"Boss!" Now Iron Bull was close enough to see what was happening, he slowed down his pace. "Everything alright?"

Liadan waved him off. "We're fine." The Iron Bull eyed them with an eyebrow raised. But he didn't stop his approach, keeping his eye on where Celeste's hands were. 

Her face pink, Celeste pulled away from Liadan. "Oh! I'm so sorry, Lady Herald!" she said, her voice flustered. "I didn't mean to overstep—"

Smiling, Liadan shook her head. "Everything is fine, Celeste. It's not because of you." She took Celeste's hands in hers and pulled them away from her neck. Slowly. The way the Iron Bull's sight was locked on Celeste gave her an extra sense of precaution. The last thing they needed was to cause an incident out in the garden before they had a chance really investigate the assassins. "Things are just a little tense at the moment elsewhere," she said, pointedly looking at Iron Bull. 

"Oh. I'm so sorry. I was just overcome with relief. Thank you again, Lady Herald," Celeste said, squeezing Liadan's hand before finally letting her go. "Your kindness will not be forgotten," she said. She gave a small curtsy and then rejoined the party, her step looking a bit lighter than before.

Once the girl was out of earshot, Dorian let out a loud sigh. "Poor girl had no idea how close she was to being tackled by a Tal-Vashoth," he said, eying the Iron Bull.

"Or getting zapped by a Vint," Bull countered, glaring at Dorian. "What was that all about anyway?"

"Nothing," Liadan said, shaking her head. "She just needed some help—"

"—Escaping the dreaded clutches of Lord desRosier," Dorian said with a smirk. "It seems after our dear Inquisitor turned down his proposal for marriage, Josephine pointed him in the direction of someone who wouldn't light his pants on fire." 

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Liadan shook her head. "When Josephine said she had other potential suitors for desRosier, I had no idea she meant Celeste! She must be half his age if she is a day."

Dorian hummed in agreement. "That's pretty normal amongst the nobility, dear heart. Remember, the number one concern is providing heirs to their name. But well done Lady Thibault for standing up for love." Turning his attention to Iron Bull, Dorian nodded to him. "And well done you, as it seems you finally get to live up to the title of bodyguard. I don't think I've ever seen you move so fast when there wasn't food involved."

"You're hilarious, Vint," Iron Bull said, rolling his eye. There was an awkward silence between the three of them, as Liadan pointedly kept her eyes off the Iron Bull, Iron Bull was outright staring at her, and Dorian looked between the two of them with an annoyed expression. "I'll just—" Iron Bull nodded his head in the direction of the Guest Wing. "I'll go. Sera should be back any time now."

Dorian snorted as Iron Bull's figure retreated. "Well that wasn't awkward at all. I never thought I would live to see a sulking Qunari." 

"Hm?" Liadan blinked at Dorian. "Did you say something?"

He gave Liadan a knowing look. "I was serious about not letting him break your heart a second time. You know that, right?"

"I don't know—"

"Oh, you very well _do_ know," Dorian countered. "I think it's a downright mistake after what he pulled, but—" He let out a long sigh. "I don't know which is worse, before or after that dreadful bet came to light. Watching the two of you bumble around each other's feelings all the time makes me feel downright nauseous."

Liadan shook her head. "There's no feelings to bumble about, Dorian. He was pretending. It was all me. It was always just me. Maybe someday things will be normal between me and Iron Bull again. Maybe we can even be actual friends."

"True." Dorian bobbed his head in agreement. "That was almost convincing had it not been for the fact that you've been staring at his backside with a lovesick look on your face instead of looking at my charming face this whole time."

Burying her face in her hands, Liadan groaned. 

Chuckling, Dorian said, "I mean, he does cut an impressive figure in these awful uniforms, but—"

Covering her mouth, Liadan said, "I'm so fucked."

He gave her a patronizing pat on the head. "No, you want to _get_ fucked, dear heart. There's a difference. Not to worry, I'm pretty sure the boar is in the same predicament currently. Now—" Dorian let out a loud breath. "Let's find some Tevinter assassins and really get this party rolling."

 

3.

Lavellan slowly opened the door to the Royal Wing. Bull would have preferred for him to take point, but Lavellan was having none of it. "It's bad enough that we're having to sneak in here. At least if it's me, we'll get into less trouble," she had reasoned.

That was a load of crap if Bull ever heard one, but he wasn't going to press the matter. All things considered, the night had been pretty calm. He'd definitely expected more from the height of The Game. Sure, the boss had found a dead body or two, but it was nothing out of the ordinary for Orlais. But they still weren't any closer to figuring out how the assassins were going to get to the Empress and when, and that had Bull a little worried.

One by one they filed into the Royal Wing. Dorian walked in behind Lavellan, because of course. Varric went next, while Bull kept an eye on the hallway to make sure no one was watching them and they weren't being followed. Snooping around in the servants quarters was one thing. The Royal Wing would have more eyes on it. 

There was nothing waiting for them but elaborate bookcases and more overdecorated furniture. The hallway was too quiet though. They were definitely being watched. "So," he said loudly, making sure any spies could hear them. There was no point in sneaking around. "Even Leliana thought this place was dangerous, and you just wanted to _walk_ in here? This party is looking up."

The boss gave him an annoyed look as she readied her staff. "Can we be less flippant about the obvious trap, please?"

Snorting, Bull gave her a smirk as she walked past him. "Sorry, boss."

Varric chuckled as he held Bianca at the ready. "I can't believe you got Hawke to agree to stay behind to play hobbyhorse for the Court. She would've loved this."

"She volunteered," Lavellan said, shrugging as she made her way up the staircase. "She's an excellent distraction, so other people don't start looking for us."

"You mean looking for _you_ , dear Inquisitor," Dorian said, giving Lavellan a playful nudge in the side. He bumped her into the stair railing, earning him an annoyed glare. "After all, we're not the ones who just enraptured the entire Court sharing a beautiful dance with the Duchess."

Scoffing, Varric shook his head as he followed. "I've seen better. That Duchess doesn't have near the range or understanding of her partner as Tiny here does."

Dorian considered this for a moment, nodding sagely. "Hmmm as loathe as I am to admit it, it is true. There was a lack of a certain _je ne sais quoi_ , to coin an Orlesian term, in Florianne's dance."

"That's just a fancy way of saying you don't know, Vint," Bull grumbled as brought up the end of the group. Normally he preferred to be in the back in these situations, as it put him in a more advantageous angle (in more ways than one, depending on who he was traveling with), but with all the crap that had happened in the servants quarters, Bull wasn't thrilled with the tactical conundrum before them. If there were more harlequins out there, it would be tough for him to get to Lavellan in time to make sure she wasn't stabbed in the back— literally.

Lavellan groaned. "Can we just... _focus_?" Even from where Bull was standing, he could see that her cheeks were a dark pink. And she was very pointedly not looking at him. "And when we get back to Skyhold we are _all_ going to have a long chat about banter protocol from now on."

"Good luck with that, boss," Bull said, grunting. "Tried that with the Chargers a few years ago. The backtalk only got worse."

Looking over his shoulder, Dorian said, "That's because you treat them like your children."

Bull raised an eyebrow. "And you're saying the boss—" 

Lavellan looked back with a scowl, silencing Bull from whatever else he was about to say. As she opened her mouth to reply, her ears twitched. "Do you hear that?" She took off towards the Royal Wing in a run. Dorian, Varric, and Bull ran after her. 

As soon as they made it to the main hallway of the Royal Wing, they too heard the screaming. "Ahhh! Stay back!" 

Lavellan was already at the door, kicking it down. From behind the boss' figure, the three of them could see an elf on the floor, yelling for help, with one of those damn harlequins over her, daggers out. Bull readied his axe, but it didn't matter, because the boss Fade jumped through the room, over to the harlequin and kicked the asshole right out of the open window. Bull gave an impressed whistle. It seemed like he wasn't the only one getting a bit annoyed with the party. 

Her eyes wide in surprise, the elf on the floor tried to catch her breath as she processed what just happened in front of her. Lavellan gave her a reassuring smile, and Bull felt his heart tug a little. There were few things in this world that moved him as much as seeing her help people. Damn she was good at it, and she didn't even know it. Lavellan knelt down to the elf, her hand outstretched. "Are you all right?" she asked in a gentle voice. 

"I'm-" the elf said breathlessly. "I don't think I'm hurt...?" The elf pushed to standing, and Lavellan followed her, putting her hands out to support the elf if she needed it. "No one's supposed to be here..." the elf said, still a bit breathless. "Briala said..." The elf pushed her lips together and shook her head. "I knew I shouldn't have trusted _her_."

"This wing is sealed. How did you get in?" Lavellan asked. 

The elf shrugged. "Easy. The door was unlocked."

Bull grumbled, leaning his weight on his axe. "Really starting to sound more and more like a trap, boss."

"Tiny's right," Varric added. "Andraste's tits, this whole thing smells worse than a pile of nug shit."

Wrinkling his nose, Dorian made a sound of disgust. "Did we really need that vivid a picture, Varric?"

"I'm a writer," Varric said with a shrug. "Painting a vivid picture is part of my job."

Lavellan cleared her throat. "It seems all sorts of people tonight are taking advantage of this wing being closed."

The elf servant scoffed. "Briala probably knew it was dangerous and sent me despite that. I'm just one more embarrassing secret erased. I knew her. _Before_. When she was Celene's _pet_. I remember when she was sleeping with the Empress who purged our Alienage."

Her eyes narrowed, Lavellan stepped towards the servant. "Would you be willing to testify to that if I asked?"

"Absolutely. If the Inquisition will protect me, I'll tell you everything I know about our so-called _ambassador_. She cannot be trusted, Inquisitor."

Grimacing, Lavellan nodded towards the door. "Go to the ballroom. Find Commander Cullen. Tell him what you told me, and he'll be sure to keep you safe."

"Thank you," the elf servant said as she took Lavellan's hands in hers. "May the Creators protect you, Inquisitor." Nodding to the Inquisitor, she then left the room in a run, her bare feet silent on the marble floors. 

Letting out a loud sigh, Lavellan pushed a hand through her hair and walked over to the open window. "This is getting worse and worse. Leliana wasn't kidding when she said not to trust anyone." 

Bull slowly edged over to the Lavellan. He made sure to keep his distance, but it was a struggle not to reach out for her then. He could see she needed support. "You okay, boss?"

Her fists clenched at her side, Lavellan nodded. "The Game's not over yet."

\---

Bull knew things were going too well for them. They dispatched Florianne's trap easily enough, because yeah that happened, and gained a foul mouthed Ferelden merc ally that Bull couldn't help but take a shine to. But they still needed to get back to the ballroom before the Duchess took the opportunity to kill the Empress. Lavellan rushed through the halls, while he, Varric, and Dorian struggled to keep up with her. 

There were four agents waiting for them in the hallway leading the Grand Ballroom gardens. Lavellan took her staff out, clearly not caring anymore if these were Briala's, Gaspard's, or sent by Florianne to delay them further. She didn't even give them a chance to draw their weapons before she cast Immolate. Fire exploded at their feet, and the soldiers wailed to get out of the way while fumbling with their weapons. Bull gave a loud laugh as he brought his axe out, and he felt Dorian cast a barrier on all of them as Varric slipped into the shadows. 

Bull smirked at how flawlessly they synced up in battle now, thinking back to those clumsy days in the Hinterlands, when Lavellan was still unsure of what she was doing. Watching her now, letting the magic flow through her without hesitation... it was a beautiful sight.

Two of the larger agents were heading towards Lavellan, both carrying two-handed axes. Bull gave a loud shout, "Hey assholes, why don't you take on someone your own size?" The two agents turned, and narrowed their eyes at Bull before resuming their path towards Lavellan. " _Hey!_ " Bull called, flexing his back. "You keep walking away you're going to hurt my feel-"

A sharp pain shot through Bull's left leg just as he saw a harlequin jump out of the shadows to strike a second time. His vision spinning, Bull tried to step out of the way of the attack with his left leg. Pain radiated, and he felt himself stumble into one of the hallway displays and fall over. His axe fell to the floor with a loud _clang_. He brought his hand over to touch the injury on his inner thigh and hot blood spilled all over his fingertips. 

The harlequin walked towards him, blades shining in the light of the magic flying around in the hallway. Bull closed his eyes, trying to clear the darkness taking over. He tried to use his axe to steady himself, but it wasn't in his hands. Right, he had dropped it. Bull reached out, trying to grab the axe on the floor, watching the harlequin bring his daggers up to strike again. 

This was it. This was how he was going to go, and what a pitiful way for it to happen. It couldn't have been a dragon, no— it had to be under the knife of some stupidly dressed asshole who got a lucky shot—

A bright glowing blade came down, slicing the harlequin across the back. He gave a loud yell and recoiled away. Bull did everything he could to keep his eye open. He watched, completely raptured, as Lavellan swung her Spirit Blade down again, managing to just knick the harlequin as he jumped out of range. But as the asshole was about to slip back into the shadows, Lavellan's eyes narrowed and she said, "You're not going anywhere!" Thrusting her left arm out, she summoned the anchor to open a rift. The hallway was filled with the Fade's sickly green glow while the harlequin was blinked out of existence, screaming. Lavellan didn't even wait for the rift to close before she was by Bull's side, examining the wound while he fought to stay conscious. 

He heard her say, "Bull!" but it sounded like she was in the distance, with sounds of the fight even further away. Which Bull knew wasn't right, because he could feel the warmth of Lavellan's hands touching him, and a cool blast of magic from the barrier she had no doubt summoned. "Hold on, Bull" she said, pushing her hands against his thigh. A blast of cold went through the wound, followed by a radiating heat. 

It was a healing spell. Had to be. Bull tried to focus his vision on Lavellan as she pressed her hands against the wound, her entire face lit by the cool green of her spell. The pain was residing, and Bull could feel a bit of strength return to him. He moved to sit up, but was stopped by Lavellan's voice. "No, I'm not done with the spell yet. Dorian—" And at the mention of the Vint's name, Bull felt another set of hands holding him down from behind. "Don't move. Damnit, he hit a major artery with that attack. If Bull had his armor on— But no, we're just in these stupid— Creators, the blood. Bull, just... stay here, okay? Stay with me." Lavellan ripped the blue sash off her shoulder and started to wrap it around the wound as a tourniquet.

Bull resisted making some kind of dirty innuendo as he felt Lavellan's hands move around his injured inner thigh. His voice cracked as he spoke. "Whatever you say... Kadan..." 

"Idiot," she said, half laughing. But her face didn't look amused at all as she wrapped another layer around his leg. "You know my name is Liadan." She cast another healing spell, the green glow circling around them.

He winced as he felt the muscles knitting back together, and tried not to picture it in his head. "That's what I said. _Kadan_."

"We need to make sure that dagger wasn't poisoned," she said, more to herself then him. She looked over her shoulder and called out to Varric. "Check the blade. He sounds delirious. Hopefully Leliana brought antidotes with her. She'd the one who'd have them, right?"

"The blade looks clean, Snowflake," Varric said, his voice sounding very far away. 

Bull coughed as the spell surged. "Stitches can help." He wrapped his right hand around Lavellan's wrist and gave it a small shake. Her eyes snapped to his. "Go... You need to go stop the assassination."

"And what, leave you here to bleed everywhere?" she scoffed. "I'm not going anywhere until you can."

Varric seemed closer now. Bull could hear the dwarf chuckling. "Do you know how hard it is to get blood out of silk drapes? The Empress would never forgive us, Tiny."

"Right," Lavellan said, trying to sound light about it, but failing terribly. It must have been worse than he thought. She was a terrible liar, especially under duress. 

One of Dorian's hands left his shoulders and in moments Bull felt a hand on his forehead. "He's not running a fever, Liadan," Dorian said. His hand went down to one of Bull's pulse points. "But his heart is racing."

"It's from all this attention," Bull said, smirking weakly. While he could feel the wound starting to close, he felt the strength leaving him with every moment. "I mean I'm used to getting fawned over.... but I never expected..." 

His vision grew dark again, and he felt his head tilt back. The darkness seemed so welcoming. 

Maybe if he just closed his eye for a moment...

 

4.

Liadan tried not to focus on the fact that her hands were covered with the Iron Bull's blood. Even after her healing treatment, he was still in bad shape. But there was only so much her healing spells could do.

As his eye closed, Liadan felt the floor give from beneath her. "Come on. You need to stay with me." When he didn't respond, or open his eye again, she leaned over him and gave his entire body a shake. "Bull!" she cried, her hands moving to cradle his face. She shook him hard once, twice, and there was still no response. " _Vhenan_!"

There was no time to think. She quickly moved her hands down to the injury and prayed to anyone who would listen to her. The only spell she knew that would help was far out of her ability, but she had to try. He couldn't die here. Not now. 

And as she summoned every scrap of magic left within her, a bright yellow light emerged from her hands and engulfed the entire hallway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to go around the scenes from the game in Halamshiral, as to not rely on game dialogue as much. And yes, Bull's injury was definitely inspired by what happened to him on my last playthrough. Those darn Harlequin.


	10. Chapter 10

1.

Bull's eye snapped open. He could feel the undeniable chill of a healing spell spreading throughout his body. His vision was much clearer than it was before he passed out. And _shit_ he could feel the wound throbbing now. Lavellan's spell was lighting the entire hallway with a bright yellow glow. Bull had never seen her cast anything like it, but he could definitely feel its effects. With every second, he felt more of his strength coming back. 

This was more than a normal healing spell. 

Shit, what happened?

"Boss?" Bull's voice cracked.

"You'll need to give her another moment," Dorian said from behind him. "She managed a Resurgence spell, somehow. They take a bit of time to cast."

Bull shifted his head so he could see Lavellan. The yellow glow engulfed her entirely. Her eyes were closed, and her hair flew wildly around her. 

"You gave us a bit of a fright," Dorian said, letting go of Bull's shoulders finally. "Only _you_ could flirt while losing consciousness from blood loss."

The glow slowly began to fade, signaling the end of the spell. Lavellan's body collapsed in on itself. As Bull moved to catch her, Varric grabbed her shoulders. Bull's leg throbbed at the sudden movement, but it was a vast improvement from a few seconds before. "Take it easy, Snowflake," Varric said as he helped Lavellan sit up. "We still got the Duchess to deal with." He handed her a vial of lyrium. 

Lavellan pushed it away. "I'm fine. Just—" She pulled a potion from the small bag on her belt. She uncorked it and shoved it against Bull's lips. "Drink it," she ordered. 

Bull blinked at the bottle. "Honestly, boss, I'm fine now—"

She glared at him before pushing it hard against his lips. Bull relented, taking the vial and downing the potion in two gulps. 

"At least it's boss again," she said, the worry in her eyes easing up somewhat. She shook her head and frowned at him. "This is my fault. I wasn't watching your back. I'm sorry."

"Seeing as he stabbed me from the front, I really don't see how it was your fault," Bull countered, tossing the empty potion vial to the side. "It's no one's fault but mine for not checking my blindside. _Maybe_ the asshole who stabbed me, but you already took care of him so—" 

Dorian came to Lavellan's side and helped her stand. 

That's when Bull saw all the blood.

Her entire uniform was stained from her torso downward. In the candlelight it almost looked black. Her tan gloves were now dark crimson. All of it couldn't be his... could it?

Lavellan looked down to Bull. He could see that her eyes were a bit red. "I don't want you to push yourself, but do you think you can stand? We have to keep moving."

"Yeah." He would stand whether he could or not. With a grunt, he sat up all the way and felt around until he found his axe. 

Varric knelt down, helping him get a better grasp on the axe hilt. "You really scared her for a second there," the dwarf whispered, nodding over to Lavellan, who was busy regaining her bearings with Dorian. Her forehead was on Dorian's shoulder as she breathed deeply. Bull watched as her back rose and fell. 

"I'm sure she was," Bull said, keeping his eye on her. "She gets worried whenever any of us are hurt."

"Pretty sure she only gets _that_ worried when it's you that's hurt, Tiny," Varric said, offering his hand to him. 

Between Varric and the axe, Bull managed to lever himself to standing. He probably wouldn't be able to fight or do anything more than stand for a while, but it would do. He took a step forward with his left leg, and pain shot through him like a crack of lightning. His leg faltered for a moment, but he brought the axe down hard onto the marble floor. He may have cracked the marble, but he didn't really care. Using the axe as a makeshift cane, Bull clenched his teeth and took another step. He'd get through this, damnit. 

Lavellan raised her head from Dorian's shoulder, and looked to Bull with a worried expression. But before she could say anything, Bull smirked and said, "Ready when you are, boss."

She stared for a moment before giving a shallow nod. 

Thankfully, it wasn't much further to the Grand Ballroom. Painfully aware how much he was slowing them down at such a crucial time, Bull tried his best to move as fast as he could. He could feel Lavellan's magic soaking into his muscles with each step. The throbbing pain was fading. Whatever she had cast, it had regenerative properties that lasted much longer than most healing spells. It had also tapped her reserves pretty hard. Bull could tell that she was struggling to walk straight almost as much as he was. 

Bull could only hope that whatever they faced in that Ballroom, it wasn't another fight. They were in no shape to defend a nug, much less the Empress of Orlais.

As Lavellan pushed the double doors to the Grand Ballroom open, Cullen rushed over to them. He looked harried. "Thank the Maker you're back," he said. It took him a moment to realize that Lavellan's uniform was stained with blood. "Inquisitor! Are you all right?" 

Lavellan waved Cullen off. "We're fine. Just had an incident on the way here. Did the elven servant find you?"

"Yes, although I'm not sure what all of it was about—" Cullen said, still eying the Inquisitor's uniform. "Maker's breath that's a lot of blood. Are you sure you're all right?"

Bull leaned up against a nearby wall. "Awww, it's nice to know that you care, Cullen. I'm just fine. The boss here healed me up real good."

Turning his eyes to Bull, Cullen's brow furrowed. It was only then that he saw all the blood on Bull's uniform , as well as the boss' missing blue sash tied around his thigh. "I... see..." Cullen blinked once, twice, and then turned back to Lavellan. "The Empress will begin her speech soon. What should we do?"

A smile formed on Lavellan's lips as she gave the Commander a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Wait here. I'm going to have a word with the Grand Duchess."

"What?" Cullen grabbed her arm. "There's no time. The Empress will begin her speech any moment!"

"What a perfect opportunity," Lavellan said, narrowing her eyes. "After all, the Duchess owes me another dance." She began to walk down the main stairs towards the dance floor. 

Cullen chased after her, but stopped once he reached the staircase. "Inquisitor! You can't just— You're covered in blood!"

Lavellan looked over her shoulder and smirked. "Orlesians love dramatic gestures." And down the stairs she went.

Speechless, Cullen stood there for a moment sputtering, before he turned to Bull for help. "She can't just go down there—"

"Don't look at me," Bull said, leaning the back of his head against the wall, not giving a crap if his horns scratched on the gold inlay. "She's pretty pissed off. You might as well enjoy the show, Cullen."

 

2.

Liadan could feel the eyes of the entire Court watching her as she descended the staircase into the main dancing area. Nobles moved out of her way, clearing a path directly for Florianne. While news of what happened in the Royal Wing couldn't have traveled _that_ fast, the nobles were experienced enough in The Game to realize something was about to happen. Liadan tried not to think about how many people were watching her every move. She ignored the whispers as she walked past. Instead, she focused on Florianne, who was looking on nervously as the blood-soaked Inquisitor approached. Liadan did her best to keep her eyes narrowed and her shoulders back, to keep the air of intimidation. And if a few sparks escaped her hands as she walked towards the Duchess, so be it. She was tired of dancing to Florianne's tune.

The Duchess eyed her nervously. "Inquisitor?"

Liadan smiled in return, flashing her teeth. "Surprised to see me?" Florianne took a step back. "The eyes of every noble in the empire are upon us your Grace," Liadan said, her voice as smooth as she could manage with the rage boiling in her veins. "Remember to smile."

"Of course I would be delighted to speak with you again, Inquisitor," Florianne replied, taking a few more steps back. 

"That's odd, because I seem to recall you saying—" Liadan raised her voice to make sure everyone in the Ballroom heard her, "'— _All I need to do is keep you out of the ballroom long enough to strike._ ' And yet you didn't even succeed in doing that, because _here I am_." The nobles around them broke into a fury of whispers. But Liadan wasn't finished. "When your archers failed to kill me in the garden—" There was an audible gasp throughout the ballroom, "—I feared you wouldn't save me this last dance." Liadan smirked at Florianne. 

On the dais above them, the Empress made no move to stop the confrontation, so Liadan took that as an invitation to continue. She took a few stairs up to the landing where Gaspard and Florianne were standing. "If I've learned one thing this evening, it that it's easy to lose your good graces. And after we shared such a lovely dance. But why should I be surprised? You were determined for this assassination to happen tonight. You even framed your brother for the murder of a Council Emissary."

Gaspard turned to his sister with a scowl. "You did _what_?"

"It was an ambitious plan," Liadan continued as she began to circle around the Duchess. "Celene, Gaspard, the entire Council of Heralds, all your enemies under one roof. All you had to do was light the spark and watch the palace tear itself apart. But you underestimated me, and that's where you failed, Your Grace." 

_Checkmate, you bitch. You're going to pay for what you did._

Florianne looked around nervously. "This is all very entertaining, but you do not imagine anyone _believes_ your wild stories, Inquisitor?" she said with a nervous laugh. "After all, who would take the word of an elven mage above a Duchess?"

From above them, the Empress said, "That will be a matter for a judge to decide, cousin." Her expression was solemn as she glared at the Duchess. 

"Gaspard?" Florianne turned, reaching out for her brother. "Gaspard, surely _you_ cannot believe this," she pleaded. "You know I would never—" Gaspard walked away as a line of armored guards walked towards Florianne. "Gaspard!"

"You lost this fight ages ago, Your Grace," Liadan said with a shrug. "You're just the last to find out."

The guards circled the Duchess before dragging her away "No!" Florianne cried out. 

And good riddance.

 

3.

The state of the ballroom was chaotic to say the least. Nobles gossiping about Florianne's downfall at the hands of the Inquisitor, what would happen now that the Inquisitor was involved in the talks, what would be the fate of Gaspard... it was endless. 

Bull found a comfortable spot where he could rest his leg and also enjoy some of the food offerings of the evening. The spiced nuts were amazing, but the servant carrying the tray only came by every so often, so he had to ration them. Bull didn't think Orlesian cheese was palatable at all, but the cheese dip was pretty good, he had to admit. Especially with the fresh loaves of bread they kept bringing out. 

The Champion approached him, a smirk on her face. "I think they're almost finished now. Ambassador Montiliyet just emerged from the balcony practically walking on air."

Bull snorted. "Why? Did the Empress make a marriage proposal to the boss too?"

Chuckling, Hawke shook her head. "Apparently, the Empress has offered a dress for the Inquisitor to change into from her own private collection before their big peace talk announcement."

"I hope it's not something pink and fluffy," he said with a chortle. "It will not end well if it is."

Hawke raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like there's a story there?"

"Think of what she did to desRosier. But a much bigger fire. With a lot more screaming on her part. I think Josephine got the point." Bull took another handful of nuts from one of the passing servants. "How did the evening go in here?"

"Oh you know—" Hawke gave a nonchalant wave of the hand. "Boring nobility chatter. I was hoping to get something more solid about what's happening in the Western Approach, but no one has any idea what's going on out there, save that it's hot."

"Helpful," Bull said, rolling his eye. He offered some nuts to Hawke. 

"Yes well," she sighed as she took some nuts. "Orlesians are never very forthcoming with information. I'm too Ferelden for The Game, I think. But I did get many offers for assistance once I made it clear the Champion of Kirkwall was a personal friend of the Inquisitor. I'm not sure who's more terrifying now, me or her."

"You've both taken on the original Darkspawn and lived, that much is true. But I have to be biased when it comes to the boss, so I would say—"

" _Fenris?!_ " Hawke exclaimed. The Champion was frozen to the spot, her eyes wide. 

Bull looked over to where Hawke was staring and saw a broody looking elf with stark white hair watching them both with a scowl on his lips. He was dressed like one of the serving elves, but it looked all wrong on him. It was clear he wasn't comfortable with his disguise, but probably couldn't get in the gates any other way.

Hawke glanced over at Bull, looking a little panicked. "Remember what I said about running if he showed up?"

"I think it's a little too late for that," Bull stage whispered. "You going to go talk to him, or are you going to just stare at him until he rips your heart out?"

"You aren't helping," she snapped back, glaring at Bull. 

Laughing, Bull shook his head, "I'm not trying to."

"Maker's breath, he's going to kill me," she muttered to herself.

"Nah," Bull said. "Too public."

"That's reassuring." She fidgeted with her sash for a moment, checking that everything was in its proper place. "Right. Well." She grabbed a champagne flute from a servant who was passing by and took a large gulp from it. "I suppose there are worse ways to go," she said, walking towards where Fenris was standing.

Bull let out a roaring laugh as he watched Hawke go. Fenris gave Bull a weary look before taking Hawke's hand and leading her to one of the open balconies. What Bull wouldn't give to hear Hawke on the awkward side of that conversation. Turn about was fair play. But he also knew the couple needed their time alone.

Solas emerged from behind one of the near-by circles of nobles, wearing a ridiculous looking servant's hat. Bull wasn't the best judge of fashion, but he got why Solas did it. Disguised as a servant, he could pass through the crowds unseen. It was why Sera did so well as a Red Jenny, and why Bull would take on the brainless muscle persona— nobles didn't notice the help. 

The elf looked at Bull with open contempt. "I suppose you are feeling rather proud of yourself after all of that."

"What?" Bull gestured to the balcony where Hawke and Fenris had disappeared to. "I had nothing to do with that. Wish I did though. It's damn hilarious."

"No, I was speaking of this evening's events," Solas said. "The Inquisitor was not laughed out of the Winter Palace. She has been successful in her goals. We are awaiting her to emerge from peace talks with the Empress, and it will be her decision on how Orlais moves forward. It seems, you won the wager, my friend."

Pushing himself to standing, Bull leered down at the smaller elf. "Yeah, no thanks to you. You deserve a punch in the mouth for what you put her though."

"What _I_ put her through?" Solas glared. "Did she _not_ deserve to know the truth?"

"Not in the way you did it," Bull said. "I was going to tell her."

"When?" Solas asked, tilting his head to the side. "After Corypheus was slain? I was trying to save her the heartbreak of finding out she'd been lied to."

Growling, Bull took a step towards Solas. "I wasn't lying to her."

Solas threw his arms up in frustration. "A lie by omission, then. You conveniently forgot to tell her that all the attention you were giving her wasn't for her sake, but as a favor to Leliana."

Bull's eye narrowed. "That's not what happened."

"Isn't it?" Solas' voice was sharp. "It was clear to everyone watching how she was becoming attached to you. I had to take the matter into my own hands before the whole charade went too far."

"By making everything _more_ complicated?" Bull rolled his eyes. "Yeah, great idea there, Solas."

Solas' lips pushed into a thin line. "I'm trying to comprehend why you are complaining about the situation. Hasn't she forgiven you? I mean, you are here, aren't you? Despite everything you're done, she still favors you." He nodded to the sash still tied around Bull's thigh. 

The bleeding had since stopped, but keeping it on there gave a bit of evidence to the rumors spreading around about what happened in the Royal Wing, and far be it for Bull to stop any rumors that would boost the Inquisitor's reputation. 

Touching the blue sash with his left hand, Bull smirked at the elf. "That sounds a little like jealousy, _mage_."

"More like incomprehension, _Tal-Vashoth_ ," Solas replied with an angry snort. "Why would she choose you?"

Bull shrugged. "I have no fucking idea. But if she'll have me, then I will be there for her— in whatever capacity she wants."

Solas scoffed. "And here I thought the Qun didn't teach love."

"Nah," Bull said. As he spoke, there was movement on the top balcony where the Empress and the others disappeared for their peace talks. The Empress lead the procession, with Briala close behind her. "The boss taught me that," added, smirking as Lavellan emerged as well.

Bull's jaw nearly dropped to the ground when he saw what the Empress lent the Inquisitor. The dress looked to be an older style compared to the fashions the ladies were wearing in court. It had the same high ruffle collar that some of the more mature ladies of the court still wore. But instead of plain ruffles as was the norm, the fabric was cut to look like butterflies. 

The dress was mainly white, with an elaborate embroidered design composed of copper and pearls on the bodice. Her shoulders were bare, but with translucent puffy white sleeves wrapped around the lower part of her arms. It was probably more fabric for the skirt than Lavellan would have liked, as well as padding that made the skirt much wider and harder to move around, but the fabric of the skirt was thin and sheer to the point that Bull could see her legs through the material.

Someone braided Lavellan's hair in an up-do that was very reminiscent of how she wore her hair during the desRosier party. She still wore no mask, making Bull wonder whether it was by choice to thumb her nose at the nobility, or whether it was under the instance of the Empress, to prevent the Inquisitor from out shining all of them.

The Empress reached the dais and called for attention of the ballroom. "Lords and Ladies of the Court! This is a night for celebration! Those who sought to poison our Empire with treason have been brought to justice. It is a new age for Orlais. We shall build a world in which all men and women will live in harmony. Let the cornerstone of change be laid. I introduce the newest member of our Court— Marquis Briala of the Dales." 

Solas scoffed as Briala stepped forward and began speaking to the crowd. "Celene is a fool if she thinks this will give her the upper hand," Solas said, shaking his head. "It will only be a matter of time before Briala sticks her own dagger in the Empress' back."

"I dunno. The boss uncovered some stuff in the Royal Wing. I think she also had a chat with the two of them. Maybe she helped them make amends..."

Solas gestured to where Briala was speaking, as if she made his point. "Briala will never be satisfied with being a mere Marquis. I've seen power struggles similar to this during my travels in the Fade. They never end well."

Bull snorted. "We only need it to stay stable for a little while. Leaders come and go. So long as Orlais can keep it's shit together until we beat Corypheus, I really don't care about the outcome." As Solas opened his mouth to retort, Bull put up a finger to silence him. "And maybe, _just maybe_ Briala will help some of these nobles get their heads out of their asses when it comes to elves. That's something even you can get behind, right?"

Solas made a sound of disapproval as Briala's voice echoed throughout the ballroom. "We can do so much more now," Briala said, enrapturing the nobles with her speech. They hung on her every word. "We are greater than our ancestors ever _dreamed_. Together, we will start by saving Thedas from the enemy who took the Divine and tore the sky apart!"

Lavellan stepped forward, the fabric of her skirt billowing around her. "This evening proves what we can accomplish through cooperation. Our enemy seeks to divide us, when we should be working together as one." The crowd gave a roaring applause. Bull felt a swell of pride in his chest. Even in this place, she had enraptured so many hearts. Just like he always knew she would. 

She was the shining beacon for them all— the Herald of Andraste.

"We are already tracking these Tevinter agents," Briala said. "Soon they will have no place to hide."

"But that is tomorrow," the Empress added, a smile playing on her lips. "Tonight, we celebrate our newfound fellowship. Let the festivities commence!"

The crowd burst into another applause. Beside him, Solas continued to snipe about Briala, and what the arrangement would bring, but Bull wasn't listening to him. He was watching Lavellan, high on that dais, chatting with the Empress and newly named Marquis. A sense of relief filled his bones, as he realized that it was finally over. 

Bull watched as Lavellan excused herself from the group and walked away, her skirts gracefully trailing behind her. 

Well, _almost_ over.

 

4.

The cool night air felt wonderful against Liadan's skin. The ballroom was incredibly warm with so many people in it. Of course, having the fate of Orlais weighing down on her the entire time probably didn't help in the overheating matter, exposed shoulders or no. 

She slowly walked over to the balcony's edge and leaned on the railing, taking in the sounds of the evening. The muffled echoes from the ballroom floated somewhere in the distance. 

They managed to stop the assassination. 

After so many weeks in preparation, it still didn't seem real. Like if she were to wake up, they would still have to go through the dreadful night, and maybe not be so successful... 

And Iron Bull...

Liadan shivered despite how warm she was. She didn't want to reflect on the dread that seized her in the Royal Wing as she watched him fall. All that blood. She was casting the Resurgence spell before she even realized it. It had been the first time she had successfully cast it, and she knew exactly why... 

Vivienne was right. And while Liadan still hadn't forgiven him for what he'd done, she didn't want Iron Bull to _die_. If she lost him... She couldn't imagine her life without the Iron Bull in it. 

Liadan hung her head. She wasn't sure where that left them. She knew she still had feelings for him. It was hard to decipher whether it was of her own doing or because Iron Bull lead her to think... 

No. If she were honest with herself, her interest in the Iron Bull started the moment she saw him that first time on the Storm Coast. She'd never seen a Qunari in the flesh before, and she couldn't help but be a little fascinated by him. He was so brutally honest and open, whereas she was everything but. She could count on him to tell her the truth, always, no matter what— which may have been why the bet had sent her reeling.

But if it was all an act, how could he look at her with such intensity, as he did when they danced? Was _that_ why he started to act strange around her? 

"They ran out of cheese dip," Iron Bull said, shaking her from her thoughts. 

Of course it was him. He had a knack for appearing when Liadan felt the most lost. But she wasn't sure he could be the one to help her this time. 

"Asked for more, and they gave me this _look_ , the assholes," he continued, shrugging. 

She gave him a half smile. "I see you're getting around better."

"By the minute," he said. "Whatever you did, it did the trick. Barely even hurts anymore."

"I'm glad." 

He came up beside her and gave her an encouraging look. "How ya doing, boss?"

Liadan's shoulders slumped as she looked over the palace grounds. Letting out a loud sigh, she said, "I can't help but feel like tonight is only a temporary victory. Corypheus won't be happy that we have thwarted his plans yet again."

Iron Bull followed her lead, leaning his arms on the balcony railing. "Hmm, probably. Not much you can do about it tonight, though. You should take your wins where you can get them, boss. We still have a bit to go before this is all over."

She let out a hallow laugh. "But it won't happen now."

"Hmm?" Iron Bull glanced over as he fiddled with his new eyepatch. "What won't?"

" _Redcliffe_ ," she said, sounding relieved. "In that future we saw, you... _that_ Iron Bull told me that was how it all started— the Empress was assassinated. But it won't happen now. I stopped it."

He leaned in closer to her. "I didn't realize you were still worrying about that. You still dreaming about that place?"

"Not as often as I once did," she said, half shrugging. "Although, I'll admit it's been in the back of my mind the closer we got to Halamshiral." 

"Why didn't you—"

"—Say something?" she supplied. Liadan glanced over at him, a sad smile on her lips. "You were rightly pre-occupied about what happened—" she hesitated, "—with Gatt. I couldn't bring this to you while you were going through all that, especially when it was my fault. I had you save the Chargers, and you lost everything."

"No, _I_ saved the Chargers, boss," he said, his tone firm. "You just reminded of me of what was the right thing do to. It's different."

"Mince words all you want, but you lost so much that day, Iron Bull. What's a few nightmares compared to that?" He opened his mouth to argue, but she shook her head to stop him. "And then everything else happened. Which brings us to... wherever we are now." Turning her head away from him, Liadan focused her eyes on the gardens below.

"Yeah... about that." He brought his hand up to the back of his neck. "Boss, I want to apologize," he said quietly.

 _That_ caught her attention. Liadan quickly turned towards him. He watched her intently. The lights from the party reflected in his eye, making it sparkle. How had she never realized his eye was the color of seafoam? 

"I made that bet before I really knew you. I thought I did, but I was too caught up with seeing you through the eyes of a Ben-Hassrath, that I missed—" Iron Bull shook his head impatiently, and tried again. "Look, leaving the Qun has made me question everything I've ever known, you know? I have no guidance, no map to show me where to go next. My entire life, I was told that if I became Tal-Vashoth, I would go mad and become a monster."

Liadan shook her head. "But that hasn't happened."

"No, it hasn't. I mean, it still could. But I have something to help center me now."

"And that is?"

"You," he said. Liadan felt her cheeks flush. "You've had more faith in me than I think anyone ever has before," Iron Bull continued. "Because of you, I'm a better man. I know I don't deserve a second chance but—" 

" _Shhhh_." Liadan reached up and curved her hand around his cheek. He leaned into her touch, closing his eye. Before he could do or say anything else, she rose up on her tip-toes and placed her other hand on his jaw to help pull his face towards hers. It was now or never. Their lips touched. Liadan knew she had to make everything clear to him in the kiss. All her want, understanding, confusion, and desire— everything he was to her. 

Iron Bull made a surprised sound, but quickly recovered and melted into the kiss. He wrapped his right arm around her waist, bringing her in closer while he cupped his other hand around the back of her head, deepening the kiss.

After a few moments, her cheeks hot, Liadan pulled away. His grip on her waist tightened.

A smile tugged at the side of his mouth. "I guess that means I'm forgiven."

Diverting her eyes away, she cleared her throat. "I've wanted to do that since that night in my quarters."

He traced her jaw lightly with his finger to maneuver her to face him again. "I wanted to let you. I ran away because I realized what an asshole I was being, and I couldn't lie to you about it anymore." 

Liadan closed her eyes, smiling wistfully. "Thank the Creators. I thought I had scared you away for good. I thought you knew what _Vhenan_ meant and—"

"Yeah, what _does_ that mean?"

Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Liadan hid her face in her hands. "Heart? But I was _very_ drunk, and you don't—"

Chuckling, Iron Bull wrapped both his hands around her waist— because, Creators, his hands were really _that large_ — and hoisted her off the ground. "Oh, this is great!" he said, with a roaring laugh. "I don't think I've ever seen you this embarrassed. Does that blush go _all_ the way down?"

" _You ass!_ " she said, indignant, as she tried to push him away.

He put her back down on the ground, but didn't let go. "I like _Vhenan_ better," he said with a smirk as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Gives it more mystery." 

She gave him a light tap on his chest. " _Fenedhis_ , shut up before I take back everything I said," she said, ducking her head away from him as her cheeks burned. 

"You can do anything you want, so long as you don't take back that kiss," he said, tilting her head towards his as he leaned in to kiss her again. It was deeper than the first. As he opened his mouth a little, Liadan took the advantage and let her tongue massage his. Iron Bull made a sound of approval as his hands moved to her bare shoulders. His touch was burning hot, but Liadan welcomed it. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him towards her so his face was at a better angle for her to kiss. Bull hummed in approval, his arms sliding from her bare shoulders, down her back, and finally encircling her waist. 

She pulled away from the kiss and looked up at him with hooded eyes. "If this was one of Varric's novels, this would be the part where you ask me to dance and then sweep me off my feet."

A smirk broke out on his face. "Oh shit, the nobles would love that! Could you imagine—" He blinked at Liadan's disappointed frown. "Wait, were you serious?"

"I was," Liadan said, looking away sheepishly. "But—"

"No! I mean, _yeah, absolutely_ I want to." He pulled away from her in a blink, leaving Liadan a little flustered. Bowing slightly, Iron Bull offered his arm to her. "If the Inquisitor will have me, that is."

A small smile played on Liadan's lips as she took his arm. "Of course she will have you."

"Many times, if she's lucky," he said, winking. 

Liadan felt her face burn. 

He lead them into the ballroom, grinning from ear to ear. As they passed a small group of nobles, Liadan could hear the excited whispers about the Inquisitor dancing with the Qunari. Iron Bull snickered as Liadan rolled her eyes. "And so it begins," she drolled, shooting the group an annoyed look. 

"It was already happening, Kadan. They're just going to be more open gossiping about it now," he said, chuckling as they made their way down the steps leading to the dance floor. 

" _Kadan_? You called me that earlier."

"I did?" Bull blinked.

"When you were bleeding all over me. I thought you were delirious. But it actually means something?" 

Bull took her hand in his and gently brought it up to his mouth. "My heart," he whispered.

"Oh," she said, feeling her heart skip a beat.

The Iron Bull kissed her hand a second time before moving them out onto the dance floor.

The small string ensemble began to play the Dance of Six Candles, and Liadan felt her face grow hotter. She wondered if she could possibly torture whoever requested that song. It was probably a certain Ambassador, but there was no way Josephine would ever admit to it.

Her hand trembled as she placed it on top of his as they moved into the starting position. 

Iron Bull led her through the slow minuet dance, moving two steps forward, and then two steps back. As they changed directions, he leaned his head towards hers and whispered, "I can't tell you how much I wanted to trade places with that Duchess earlier."

Liadan stepped to his side, and then moved in close so they were standing face to face. Smirking, she said, "You can try though," before stepping away again to his opposite side. 

As they slowly walked in the circle formation, he kept his eye locked on her— the dawnstone in his eyepatch sparkling in the candlelight. "She didn't have near enough the skill to match you out there, Kadan. I'm probably the only one here who can keep up with your moves." The two broke away, spinning in time with the other dancers around them. 

As they stepped towards each other and locked opposite arms, Liadan said, "If we're going to do this, Bull, my only request is that there's no more lying between us." She gave him a playful glare as they circled each other twice. 

He laughed as the moved into the final bowing position of the minuet. "There was no lie."

" _Bull_."

"Aww... not _Vhenan_? I'm hurt." he said with a pout. "I didn't realize you were so fickle," he added as the music quickened for the second movement.

"I'll show you _Vhenan_ ," she said playfully as they joined hands to move into the group formation. 

Just as they broke apart, Iron Bull leaned in so his mouth to was at her ear her. "I look forward to it, Kadan," he whispered.

 

5.

Liadan was foolish to think that after Halamshiral things would calm down a little at Skyhold. With Adamant on the horizon, there were still battle plans to be made, tactics to be discussed. Almost every day a few hours were spent in the War Room with Cullen, Cassandra, and Leliana, discussing the reports that Hawke (alongside Fenris, who was not to be deterred now that he was at Hawke's side once more) sent in from the field as they made final preparations. 

For today, the meeting was finished. Liadan escaped to the entrance hall as quickly as she could, lest Cullen think of one more thing to go over. As she came into the entrance hall, so did Bull, from the other side of the hall. He was carrying five bottles in his arms. The unusual shape of two of them gave away the fact that the bottles were from her own personal stores. "Do I even want to ask?" she said, folding her arms. 

Bull froze before quickly giving her an innocent smile. "Kadan! I thought you were going to be in meetings all afternoon."

" _Hoping_ , from the looks of it. We just finished. I thought I would come find you, but it seems you have other plans. What is all this?" She gestured to the bottles in Bull's arms. 

"Oh..." He looked down at the bottles in surprise. " _These?_ I'm just getting them ready."

Liadan tilted her head to the side. "Ready for what, _Vhenan_?" She made her way over to him, making sure to sway her hips in the way she knew drove him mad. 

Bull's mouth pulled into a smirk as he watched her. "Just... you know... something..." he said as his eyes moved from her hips to her face and then back to her hips. 

"Something?" she asked, reaching for one of the bottles in his arms. It was the Abyssal Peach. One of her favorites, but one she knew Bull despised. "Something that requires my personal reserves?" She put the bottle on the table closest to them with one hand as she reached for his face with the other. " _Vhenan_..."

Maneuvering the bottles in his arms, Bull reached one hand up to gently grab hers. Instead of letting her cup his jaw, he pressed the palm of her hand to his lips. "I just need to borrow them for a little bit. It's going to be _so_ worth it."

Sighing loudly, she took two of the bottles from his arms. "Next time, ask before you borrow," she said.

Bull smirked, clutching the two bottles left in his arms a little harder. "Yes, boss." 

Liadan let out a put upon sigh. "So where are you taking these?"

"To the Herald's Rest," he said, nodding to the entrance. "Krem and the others are already waiting." He started walking towards the door, leaving a stupefied Liadan behind him. 

She ran up to catch up with his long gait, glaring the whole way. "Bull, please tell me you aren't stealing my personal reserves just to get drunk with the Chargers."

"Of course not!" Bull said in mock indignation. "This is for a very special occasion, Kadan. Trust me."

"A very special occasion that you had no intention of telling me about?"

"More like I wanted it to be a surprise. And I still intend it to be, so stop trying to get me to talk," he said, chuckling as they made their way down the stone steps. 

The Herald's Rest was emptier than it usually was in the early afternoon. The only patrons were the Chargers, Blackwall, Sera, and Varric. The Chargers cheered as Bull walked through the door. Followed by loud whistling as Liadan followed him in. 

"All right, all right," Bull said, a smile tugging on his lips. 

They had set up several tables to make a long line, with several bottles, along with various glasses and mugs from the Herald's Rest storage. At the head of the table, there were two large tankards, much larger than any of the others. 

Behind the bar, Cabot looked more annoyed than usual. His arms folded against his chest as he glared at the ruckus the Chargers were making. Liadan made a mental note to hint at giving the dwarf a raise the next time she discussed finances with Josephine. 

"There you are, Chief!" Krem said, winking at Liadan. "We were starting to worry!"

"Yeah well, the boss here delayed me for a bit."

There was another loud round of whistling and approving shouts. Liadan felt her cheeks grow hot. Krem winked at her while Sera burst into a fit of giggles. 

"Ohhh, I bet she did!" Sera snickered, making a very inappropriate hand gesture that looked as though it may have scandalized poor Blackwall. 

"Now, now," Varric said in his fatherly tone. "They're entitled to a little privacy, Buttercup."

Sera snickered harder. "Tell that to Culley-Wully, Josie, and Cass! I hear they got an eye full the other day while Quizzy was tryin' to find _Bull's privacy_ , if you know what I mean." 

Blackwall buried his face in his right hand. "Maker, Sera! It's bad enough already without having to picture it!" Sera roared with laughter, while Liadan shook her head. 

It had been a few weeks since the Winter Palace. Liadan and Bull had made their relationship very public that evening in Halamshiral, mostly because Iron Bull was, well, the _Iron Bull_. And while the members of her inner circle were very supportive of the two of them, now that she and Bull were officially together, it didn't take long before the familial teasing came into play. It still had a tendency to make her blush, which amused everyone all the more. 

She found that it was better not to say anything, less she get teased worse.

"We got the Maraas-Lok, Chief!" Krem said, lifting up a strange looking red bottle. "Andraste's tits, does it stink! Shit's so strong, I think its going to burn through anything we poor it in!"

Bull laughed as he set his bottles on the table. "Probably will. These Southern glasses are dainty little things compared to what they use in Par Vollen."

Liadan eyes widened as she watched Krem put the Maraas-Lok on the table. She already experienced the terrors of that vile drink, after they killed their first dragon. She would be very happy indeed if she never saw the swill again. "Bull—" She gave him a confused look. "What is—"

"Don't worry, Kadan," Bull said, taking the bottles that she was carrying. "I won't make you drink it again. That's why I brought the Abyssal Peach for you. I'd have brought the Mackay's Epic Single Malt, but we already drank it all." He winked at her. 

The door to the tavern slammed open. "I hope the important drinking hasn't started!" Dorian called, announcing his presence. Liadan looked over to the open door to see him enter with a dramatic flourish. Behind Dorian was Cullen, looking a little embarrassed to be there. 

Dorian eyed the room. "What! Our guest of honor hasn't arrived yet?"

Varric snorted. "He's probably waiting until the very last minute to show up. Chuckles doesn't like to be wrong, Sparkler."

"Solas?" Liadan blinked.

"Psssht, he's probably off somewhere talkin' someone's ear off about his bloody _Elven Glory_ ," Sera said as she examined the new bottles Bull brought to the table. Her eyes lit up over the West Hill Brandy. "Oi, Quizzy! Can we try this'un first?"

"Sure, Sera," Liadan replied, not really listening. Her attention was locked on Bull, who took a seat at the head of the table, next to Krem. Liadan walked over and sat in the other chair set at the head of the table. She crossed her arms against her chest. " _Vhenan?_ What's going on here? Why is Solas the guest of honor?"

Smiling nervously, Bull put his arm around her shoulders. "I'll tell you, but first you have to promise to not be mad." She gave him an exasperated look. "Close enough. So it has to do with you know... _that_ bet," he said, wincing as he clearly anticipated her to get upset. When she didn't, he continued on, "Well, Solas lost the bet— which in the end had very little, if _nothing_ , to do with me— because I was being an asshole— and had everything to do with _you_ , because you are amazing, and wrapped all of Orlais around your beautiful fingers." He took one of her hands in his, and squeezed. 

Rolling her eyes, she said, " _Smooth_."

"I thought so," he said, smirking. "Anyway, so for his forfeit he has to join me and the Chargers for drinks. And he has to match me, drink for drink."

Liadan pinched the bridge of her nose. "Hence the Maraas-Lok. _Creators_ ," she said with a huff. "So help me, Bull—"

"What?" he said, feigning innocence. "Fair's fair. He was going to make me go hunting in a demon temple if I lost!"

She shook her head incredulously. "Just make sure you don't _kill him_ , _Vhenan_. I know the two of you don't get along, but—"

Bull chuckled. "And miss out on him waking up with the worst hang-over ever? Come on, Kadan. You know me better than _that_."

"Bull!" She pulled away from Bull. His arm dropped to his side as he tried to look as innocent as his face would allow. 

On the other side of her, Dorian pulled up a chair. "Incorrigible, isn't he? Although I will admit, the chance for Solas to make a complete ass of himself is the sole reason that I'm here," Dorian said with a smile. "Well, that and to get a chance at Liadan's secret stash. She's so greedy with the Abysmal Peach."

"Ulgh!" Bull made a face of disgust. "I thought Vints had better taste in things! If you want to drink dragon's piss, you could have just said something, Dorian."

Narrowing his eyes, Dorian leaned forward. "No, that's the poison the Qunari claim is alcohol. That— what was it called, dear heart? Malaise-Look?"

" _Maraas-Lok_ ," Bull corrected. "And I'm not surprised you can't handle that drink, Vint. It's too strong for someone who's been pampered their entire life."

Dorian raised an eyebrow. "Trying to shame me into trying it, hmm? Unfortunately I have no shame and therefore don't care what you think. I have absolutely no intention on drinking the equivalent to liquid fire, thank you. I had to listen to Liadan moan for two days as she recovered from the after effects of your last drinking spree."

"At least _she_ gave it a try."

Glaring at Bull, Liadan said, "My throat _still_ hasn't recovered from it!" 

Just as Bull opened his mouth to reply, Dorian put his hand up for silence. "Don't even, Bull," he said, shaking his head. "I don't want to hear any of your sexual innuendos about my best friend until I am much _much_ drunker."

"But—"

" _Bull_ —" Liadan gave him a warning glare. 

The door to the tavern opened once more. It was Solas, with an uneasy look on his face. He slowly took in the crowd, frowning with determination. "Well? I am here."

The Chargers (and Sera) gave a loud welcoming shout. Solas visibly flinched, bracing one of his hands against the threshold. Dorian and Liadan leaned close to each other, laughing conspiratorially. As Bull pushed himself up from the table, Liadan grabbed his hand, and with a wink said, "Go easy on him, Vhenan."

Bull smirked. "No chance."

"Oh come on, Chief!" Krem called. "It'll be no fun if he passes out on the first glass!"

"Fine," Bull said, rolling his eyes. "Come on over, Solas!" Bull gestured over to the head of the table. "Ah, Kadan?" Smiling nervously at Liadan, he asked, "Is it alright if I ask you to move?"

Dorian shook his head. Standing up from the table, he offered his arm to Liadan. "Come on, dear heart." He leaned his head towards her ear, and smirked. Keeping his voice down, but making sure that Bull could still hear him, Dorian said, "I'm sure the Commander would be more than happy to share your company. And then maybe you can put in a good word for me with him, hmm?" 

Letting out an amused grunt, Bull shook his head. 

Liadan and Dorian made their way to the other end of the table, where Cullen already sat down. He still looked incredibly uncomfortable, but when he saw the Inquisitor was coming to join him, he gave her a polite smile and stood up from his seat. "Inquisitor!"

"It's all right, Cullen," Liadan said, smiling at him. "I'm just surprised to see you here. I must know what Dorian said to you to get you to come along." Liadan took one of the chair's beside Cullen, while Dorian took the other.

"I'm just keeping an eye on things, Inquisitor," Cullen said.

Shrugging, Dorian said, "It's quite simple, really. I merely let it slip that there might be some commotion in the tavern this afternoon, and that it might be best if someone as strong willed as the Commander would be there to best make sure that things don't get... out of hand."

Liadan shook her head.

"Dear heart, you never know with the Chargers and that boar of yours. I've heard things about their time in Orlais—"

At the other end of the table, Bull brought the tavern to attention with a loud whistle. "Alright! Let's get this started! I want to thank Solas for being such a good sport about this. Because he's _definitely_ not going to thank me about it later." 

The Chargers roared with laughter, while Sera motioned with her empty tankard, "Get to the drinks! You're takin' too long!"

Bull smirked. "First time I've heard that."

Snorting, Sera cackled as she doubled over. "Yeah right! What you say, Quizzy?" She turned to Liadan, still shaking with laughter. 

Liadan just hid her face with her hands, wishing very much she could disappear like Cole in that moment. Her embarrassment only made Sera laugh harder.

At the head of the table, Bull cleared his throat to bring the attention back to him. "Right, well, Sera's got a point. So let's get this started, Solas. Krem, if you would?"

Krem held up two tankards, presenting them to the group. "We'll start with Calbot's house ale! It's swill—" Calbot shouted in protest from the bar. "—But it's a good starter and will get your palette primed for the otherworldly extravagant brews we have in store for you later."

Solas waved his hand impatiently as he rolled his eyes. "Can we please get on with it?"

"Settle down, mage. It's just a bit of fun amongst comrades." Bull took the two tankards, handing one to Solas, and then raised his own high up to toast Solas. "On the count of three. One. Two. _Three!_ " Both Iron Bull and Solas chucked down their tankards of ale, with the Chargers, Sera, Blackwall, and Varric cheering them along. 

On the other side of the table, Liadan just shook her head with an amused smile tugging on her lips, while Dorian laughed at the scene they were making. Bull finished his tankard first and slammed it on the table. Solas finished a few moments later, looking a little worse for wear, and with much less flourish. He set his empty tankard down gently while steadying himself against the edge of the table. 

"Next!" Bull called. Krem and the other Chargers started to mull over what should be drunk next, while Sera impatiently started gesturing at random bottles. "This time, everyone joins in!" There was another roaring cheer. 

Dorian signaled that they wanted to join the game, but Liadan gave him a warning look. "If you think you're going to be able to keep up with Bull, I have some bad news for you, Dorian."

"Maker, no!" Dorian snorted. "But I'm not going to lose out on a chance for free drinks either, dear heart— and I know the two of you won't let me drink alone."

"I'll just take the one," Cullen said sheepishly.

"Me too," Liadan said. She nodded to Cullen. "Dorian tends to be a handful when he's drunk."

"Why _Liadan_!" Dorian said, sounding simply scandalized. "You don't need to tarnish my reputation in front of the Commander!"

Liadan rolled her eyes. "Oh _shut up_ , and grab the Abysmal Peach before someone else does."

Dorian didn't need to be told twice. He leapt up from the table and quickly maneuvered to where bottle collection the Chargers were selecting from. 

Cullen moved his chair a little closer to Liadan's side. "I also had a bit of news to report to you, Inquisitor. I had a courier bring me news from the Free Marches."

Wincing, Liadan turned to face Cullen and said, "Can't that wait?"

"Well—" Cullen tilted his head to the side. "Actually it's not what you think. It appears that the troops I sent to train ithere report two extra soldiers not on the standard roll."

"Okay?" Liadan wasn't really sure why she needed to know this, or why Cullen was bothering her with it now of all times. 

"It is of no concern," he added, shaking his head. "Apparently, they are from Orlais, but my soldiers tell me that they are familiar to the Inquisition. They barely take up more than one space in our caravan."

"Cullen—" 

Cullen's lips pulled into a wan smile. "The young Lady Thibault sends her thanks. It's a shame they will miss the wedding in Val Royeaux."

"Oh Cullen!" She gave him a hug. "Thank you so much! I wasn't sure how we were going to—"

Cullen broke the hug, the smile still on his face. "Not a problem, Inquisitor. My men are used to making room for soldiers. I wonder if anyone has told the Lady Richelieu yet? She will be very let down indeed that one of the important guests are missing."

The two shared a conspiratorial laugh. There was some commotion on the other side of the table. Liadan turned her attention to Bull, trying desperately to hold back the storm of giggles she could feel bubbling in her. Bull was making a production of what they should drink next. He was arguing with Blackwall on whether they should go with the Golden Scythe 4:90 Black or the Antivan Sip-Sip. 

"It's nice to see you smile like that, Inquisitor," Cullen said, keeping his voice quiet. "It's rare."

Liadan turned towards Cullen to find him watching her intently. "Don't be ridiculous." She scoffed. "I smile a lot."

Cullen ducked his head. "I mean a _genuine_ smile. I may not have the training of the Ben-Hassrath, or a web of spies at my beck and call, I know what a fake smile looks like. After all, I had to survive a long time behind them as well. I know you've been putting on a strong show for all of us." He gave her a small smile as he nodded towards Bull. "I'm glad he makes you happy."

"Yes," Liadan said, looking over to Bull as well. "He lets me forget the burden of being Inquisitor, if just for a little while— he helps keeps me grounded."

"Just as I'm sure you do the same for him."

Liadan looked over to the Commander with a concerned frown. "Cullen—"

He put up a hand. "I never had a chance the moment he stepped onto the grounds at Haven. I saw the same look in your eyes then that I see now." With a chortle he added, "But just because he's a Tal-Vashoth, does not mean I won't duel him if he _ever_ hurts you."

Liadan crinkled her nose. "I don't think it'll come to that."

Laughing, Cullen shook his head. "Maker, I hope not! I'd be terrified to have to fight him!" Liadan snorted. "But I would do so all the same. And then come crawling to you afterward to get healed." As soon as he said that, Cullen's face turned red in embarrassment. "I mean— not that _just_ you could heal me. _Maker_." He buried his face in his hands. "This is why I am terrible at telling jokes."

Dorian returned, triumphant waving the bottle of the Abysmal Peach. "I have returned, with the glorious bottle wrenched from the clutching grasp of Skinner— who definitely gave me the most frightening death glare I've ever witnessed." Dorian gave no notice of the moment between Cullen and Liadan. He sat back down in his chair, and opened the bottle. "Shall we?" he said, giving the bottle a little shake.

With a shrug, Liadan held out her glass. "So did the Anitvian Sip-sip win out?" She asked, looking back over to the group as they started to fill everyones glasses. 

Snorting, Dorian waved it off. "Of course it did, the louts. I would prefer not to land on my back just as the festivities have started. I saw the two of you conspiring over here. I hope you were talking about me." He raised his eyebrow at Liadan.

"Yes, of course, Dorian," Liadan said, grinning at him. "I was just telling Cullen about that time just outside of Redcliffe when—"

Dorian paled. " _Festis bei umo canavarum_! You swore you'd never tell anyone about that!"

She snickered as she brought her glass up to her lips. "Cheers!"

In the end, it took two shots of the Anitvan Sip-sip, a small finger of the Butterbile 7:84, and a large tankard of Maraas-Lok, to finally knock Solas out for the count. Liadan thought they could have saved everyone some time by skipping right to the Maraas-Lok, but Bull wanted to make a production of the forfeit. 

Solas somehow managed to find a comfortable spot in one of the corners of the tavern, sleeping with his head propped against the wall, clutching a bucket tightly to his chest. Liadan put a large pitcher of water on the table, because he would definitely need it when he awoke.

The others were also good and drunk— even Bull. Liadan and Cullen were the only ones with half their wits about them. The others drunkenly sang the ballads along with Maryden, who had slipped in at some point.

As the bard led the group in a moving version of 'I Am The One,' Bull made his way over to where Liadan was sitting. He pulled a chair beside her and wrapped an arm around her waist. He smelt heavily of liquor, but he was more at ease then she had seen him since before the Storm Coast. "How ya doing, Kadan?" His voice was a bit slurred, but that was to be expected after as much as he and Krem drank.

She smirked at him. "Probably better than you will be in the morning. Creators, how many rounds of Maraas-Lok did you and Krem do?"

"Just four," he said, trying to shrug it off. In the process, he knocked over Liadan's empty glass. "Its fine," he said, grabbing her cup and putting it back on the table upside down. He smiled at her before pulling her closer to him. "See? Krem's fine too, aren't you Krem?" 

Krem was clearly not fine. His eyes were a little glazed over, and was grinning like mad. But he managed to give Bull a salute. "Never better, Your Worship!"

"Hey, so Kadan—" As Bull spoke, his mouth got closer and closer to Liadan's ear. He also was intentionally making his voice huskier than usual, knowing damn well what it did to her insides. "When do you think Maryden's going to get around to writing a ballad about _us_? You think I should ask her?"

"I'm pretty sure it doesn't work that way, Bull."

"Why not?" he asked with a snort. "Just think how much fun it would be! She can call it 'The Bull and The Rabbit' and it'll be one of those _dirty_ tavern songs. It could be about the time Cullen found us and how big my—"

" _Vhenan_!" she hissed. Liadan's face burned hot, as she buried her face in her hands. 

"You're so adorable when your embarrassed." Bull snickered at her, wrapping both his arms around her and pressing a kiss to her temple. "And now I know just how low that blush goes," he added with a toothy grin.

Glaring at him, Liadan grumbled, "I hate you."

"Awwww... you _love_ me," Bull said, snuggling up close to her.

With a put upon sigh, she shook her head. "Creators, save me, I think I do." She said it in jest, but she felt his entire body jolt at her words. 

Had she had said too much? This thing between them was so new and fragile— did she just— 

Liadan looked at him nervously. 

And then blinked. "Bull... are you... _blushing_?!"

Bull sat up straight, breaking all contact between them, and glared at her. "The Iron Bull does _not_ blush!"

She grinned in return. "The Iron Bull _absolutely_ does blush!" Cupping her hands around his jaw, she leaned her face in close to his as he, unsuccessfully, tried to push her away. "Your cheeks are so pink!" she said, barely containing the giddy laughter bubbling within her. "Should I say I love you again? Is that what you want?"

He glared at Liadan. "Can you _not_?" He looked nervously around the room. "It's kind of hard to maintain my reputation if you're going to keep cooing over me like this in public."

Shrugging, Liadan removed her hands. "Oh. I see. It's fine for you to give me a love peck, but you don't like me showing affection—"

Bull grabbed one of her hands, and put it back on his cheek. "I absolutely do."

Liadan leaned in closer to him, her grin growing wider. "Do what?"

He glanced around the tavern once more before whispering, "Love you." Then he pressed a quick kiss her forehead, right on her vallaslin. 

Feeling her cheeks heat up, she reached up and touched his lips with her fingertips. " _Ar lath ma_ ," she said, smiling at him.

He stared for a moment, looking mystified by her. Then, a small smile tugged at the side of his lips and he kissed her fingertips. Her hand. Her wrist. "That has a nice ring to it. Can you say it again, Kadan?"

" _Ar lath ma, Vhenan_."

 

_fin_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! I hope you enjoyed the journey. I know I sure did. This fic ended up being the longest thing I've ever written, and the fact that I got it done in about a year is kind of amazing to me. 
> 
> Liadan's dress at Halamshiral (post Bull's injury) is a _very_ specific Alexander McQueen dress from the 2013 Fall/Winter collection. You can see the lookbook [here](http://www.vogue.com.au/fashion/news/galleries/alexander+mcqueen+ready+to+wear+autumn+winter+2013+lookbook,26194), and it's slide 32 (the last slide). While I was trying to get ideas for what she wore, I found that dress and just fell in love because it was just so perfect for the occasion. 
> 
> Thank you again [feelslikefire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/feelslikefire/pseuds/feelslikefire) for helping me through all the rough bumps of this story, encouraging me, and helping me brainstorm myself out of corners, even though this is soooo not your ship. Thank you to everyone who left amazing comments. You guys kept me going while I was hitting a brick wall. And thank you for reading! 
> 
> Expect more Bull/Liadan (much) later in the year. I'm starting to work on another (very) long-fic for them, but I plan to do the same thing as I did with this, and wait until it's finished before posting. But first, I have to get this Garrus/Sheppard plot bunny I've had stuck in my head for half a year out of the way.


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